


Here Beside Me

by jedia_lo21



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Brief Mention of Suicide, Domestic Fluff, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kitsune, M/M, Mild Language, Russia, kitsune katsuki yuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:19:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 36,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedia_lo21/pseuds/jedia_lo21
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki, a rare black kitsune, is kidnapped from his home in Japan and sold on the black market in Russia. Incredibly, he escapes from his cruel animal captors but is lost in the streets of Russia and injured, hungry, and weak.Viktor Nikiforov was walking home after a late night of practice when he stumbles across a miserable, quaking ball of fur behind the dumpster in the alleyway next to his apartment. Before he even thinks about it, he takes in the dying little creature and brings it home with him. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to nurse a…a cat? back to life. Besides, Makkachin would love a new furry friend, kitty or not…





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Very very slight mention of animal death. Really brief.
> 
> Also there will be rot-your-teeth fluff on the way. Doesn't seem like it now, but don't worry!

Russia was cold, so much colder than Yuuri expected.

The funny thing was, there was very little snow in the streets and on the sidewalks for this time of year in winter. It had poured heavily a few hours before and the rains had soaked up the snow and ice to leave the asphalt roads below slushy and sodden.

A gust of wind struck at the thin tarp draped over his cage. It lifted up the fabric and swept through Yuuri’s mangy fur with cruel and biting claws. The kitsune shivered and curled up in a tighter ball, willing what body heat remained inside him to spread evenly throughout his body.

It didn’t work.

The wind filtered away his body heat with every bluster. He was soaking wet even though he had tried bracing himself against one of the back corners of the cage when the rains had started. The combination of the two was surely mortally dangerous, but Yuuri had lost the will to care a long time ago. The only thing he paid heed to was the dryness in his throat and the hollow pain in his belly.

His captors hadn’t fed him in three days, and the water he was able to get was siphoned off the tarp after the rains.

He was miserable. Russia was miserable. His whole situation was miserable, had been for centuries.

And still he was alive.

Lovely.

A soft grumble escaped his throat and Yuuri tucked his chilled nose into his tail. One of his tails. He had five, but he usually concealed the other four with a basic, low-energy illusion spell. Humans wouldn’t take kindly to a fox with five tails. He could be experimented on, locked away forever, unable to ever return to his home in Japan. So he hid himself away from mankind.

Only time could tell if he could keep up with this simple magic. He was hungry and tired, and already his energy reserves were drained. There was little natural life around him here in St. Petersburg.

Japan, however, had been teeming with organic life and energy. Its plants, its people, and its animals were tightly bound together in a rich web of energy and life.

St. Petersburg felt dead. There was little joy and little life around him here.

Perhaps it was the state of the city’s people. St. Petersburg was cold and dreary, so the people must’ve been cold and dreary and miserable as well.

Or perhaps Yuuri was projecting.

He had been taken from his home in Japan, shoved into a cage, pumped full of drugs, and shipped off to cold, miserable Russia. He didn’t know where he was being taken now.

The cargo truck he had been loaded onto was dirty and rusting. Every pothole and bump in the road they ran over sent jolts through Yuuri’s body. It was hard to sleep with all the noise and movement.  Other cages filled with animals stolen from Japan, China, Thailand, and probably elsewhere in Asia were also shoved up against his own crate.

Yuuri felt uneasy staring at the wide, blinking eyes of the terrified creatures shivering in their cages. Many of them had perished along the way here and their still bodies remained unmoving against the cold steel bars. What animals remained alive looked just as miserable as Yuuri did trying to hide from the wind, rain, and snow in their cages under the tarp.

So they couldn’t be on the way to any zoos or rehabilitation centers. They wouldn’t have been treated so cruelly. This must be black market work. Illegal exotic animal trafficking.

Yuuri’s stomach twisted.

Perhaps he would be sold to an exotic animals dealer as a rare black fox. Or maybe he’d be forced into some  _ breeding  _ program by an animal keeper. Humans were never content to have something rare. They wanted  _ many _ rare things. One was never enough.

Worst case scenario, Yuuri would be treated like the animal everyone thought he was.

And there was no way he could change forms. The drugs- expensive, heavy duty tranquilizers- leeched his energy reserves away and prevented him from shifting into his human form to escape. In Russia, there wasn’t enough organic life around him to replenish those reserves fast enough.

He’d be stuck here in his fox form for a long time, unable to change forms and escape.

A pained whine ripped its way out of his throat. Yuuri squeezed his eyes tightly. He wanted to go home so bad. Home was where his mother, father, and sister were. It was where the hot springs were, warm bowls heaping with katsudon, soft mats, gentle hands running through his fur, the familiar musical syllables of Japanese words, soft brown eyes melting with warmth and love. Home was basking on the rocks near the waterfall, watching the seagulls on the beach, strapping on skates for the first time and feeling like flying on the ice...everything he’d ever known was there.

Now there was nothing.

If Yuuri could’ve sobbed, he would have. But he was in his kitsune form and there was no telling how long he’d be like this.

The tarp over his cage fluttered again in the biting wind and Yuuri caught a glimpse of the grey sky overhead swarming like an enraged ocean. Soft white flurries rained down from the dark black carriages of the storm clouds. It was snowing again.

Yuuri squeezed his body tightly, willing the burning heat of locking his muscles to help warm him up. It would be another long, cold night here in the back of the truck.

Yuuri tried to empty his mind to sleep. The dreams would take him away from his cold body, his aching belly, and his parched throat. Dreams were where he could live in Japan with his family again and forget everything that had happened in the last couple weeks.

Still, he couldn’t escape the voice in the back of his mind that told him this was only the beginning of a long period of change. Something here was going to change his life forever. For better or for worse.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri meets the leader of an illegal exotic animal trade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

“And what is this  _ thing  _ supposed to be?”

Yuuri stirred from his nap at the sound of now-familiar Russian voices drawing nearer. Heavy footsteps resounded over the cement floors, accompanied with a rhythmic and heavy thumping sound. A shadow suddenly loomed over him, so large and wide, it blocked the light of the entire cage.

The kitsune stared disgruntled at the imposing figure looking down at him with disinterest through the bars. The big man leaned against a heavy cane, the source of the resounding thumping. It was capped with a heavy metal jaguar head baring its canines in mid-roar.

A thin, hunched man stood next to him, twiddling his fingers nervously as he regarded Yuuri.

“We think it’s some sort of fox species from Japan,” the thin man replied, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose as if trying to see the kitsune better. “However, he’s a bit of a peculiar case since his fur is quite thin rather than bushy like most fox fur is. He also has a strange set of markings on the crest of his head, quite like Tabby cats with that signature ‘M’ mark on their forhe-”

“It’s quite disappointing, wouldn’t you say?” The imposing figure interrupted, eyebrows raising in consternation. Thin, wrinkled fingers smoothed a heavily gelled cap of salt-and-pepper hair flat against his long skull.

Yuuri bared his teeth at him, irritation flaring through his body. Who did this guy think he was?

“What kind of exotic flair does a black fox have over, say, a tiger? Or a monkey? Even cockatoos are in higher demand than foxes, and they’re just ugly, disgusting little birds. Although, this beast has quite the taste for drama, wouldn’t you say? Look at the way it challenges me.”

“Ah...yes, sir.”

A low growl built up in Yuuri’s chest, rumbling up his throat.

The large figure smiled back, all teeth as if baring them at the kitsune. Without warning, he swung his cane at the steel bars of the cage. The heavy baton blurred as it struck the metal so hard the entire cage threatened to collapse. Yuuri jumped back, startled at the violent shaking of the bars and the loud sound of steel being bashed with a blunt object. The figure laughed, a sound so oily and wicked that Yuuri’s ears pulled back in distress.

“Perhaps this thing can be domesticated. Like a dog. Smack it around a few times and soon enough it will lay at your feet and surrender.”

Yuuri’s tail twitched in agitation and he fought his body not to release the hiss building up in his chest. This man was certainly no stranger to teeth and claws. He must fear none of the animals in this godforsaken warehouse. In fact, he seemed to delight in torturing the creatures enough for them to scream out in agony. Often, the sound was loud enough to be heard over the din of chatter from the other beasts.

Yuuri did not want to be on the receiving end of the heavy cane in the man’s hands.

“It’s already learning not to test me. Perhaps it’s just a strange dog. Quick to bite, quick to fear, easy to condition. Even if it is only a fox, I sense no use in its investment here. No one will pay for this thing, and if they do, it won’t return much profit. I assume the expenses involved in capturing this beast will outweigh the return value. What a poor waste of resources,  _ da _ ?”

The thin man let out a nervous whine and ducked slightly as if expecting a blow.

It never came.

The large man simply tapped his cane on the ground and watched Yuuri with hungry eyes. “Perhaps it will look good lounging on my lap during meetings. They get so tedious these days, and my men are starting to question the mass of my power. Perhaps this little fox would be a lovely addition to the office room, wouldn’t you say? I honestly don’t care if it’s alive to be there or dead and skinned as a rug on my floor.”

The large man turned away and the sound of heavy boots and a tapping cane echoed down the cement walkway. He paused suddenly and called out, “Oh and Marat?”

The thin man turned expectantly.

“I would advise a better settling of our expenses next time. I expect investments to garner suitable interest from our buyers. Returns must be more than the costs taken to make them. It’s all simple economics, you see. Our customers have certain needs and desires when it comes to exotic pets. We capture and ship them cheaply, sell them exorbitantly, and then start the process again and again and again. You won’t get another chance if our next shipments go awry. It would be unfortunate if you were to be involved in a little... _ accident  _ on your way to Kazakhstan to see your family, wouldn’t you say?”

The thin man shuddered visibly and bowed his head. “I won’t fail you again. I already have a team with a shipment full of animals from a South African black market trade. We will get what our buyers are asking for.”

The boss let out a quiet chuckle. “For your sake, I hope you succeed, Marat.” He turned away and continued down the dirty cement floor, wooden cane tapping the ground as he walked away.

The thin man let out a quiet sigh of relief, shoulders hunching impossibly forward.

Yuuri took a couple more soundless steps backward until the fur of his tail brushed the back wall of the cage. He curled up in a small ball and watched warily over the bulk of his tail as Marat, the thin man, straightened up, a determined expression lighting his features.

Chocolate brown eyes met a set of slate grey ones. Marat broke the stare first and glared down at Yuuri. “I made a mistake with you. You’re nothing special.”

_ That you know of. _

"The boss will kill you, skin you, and use your fur as a place to rest his feet after a long day of work. You’re nothing here and you will die as nothing better than the ground that we trod upon. I won’t make the same mistakes again.”

Marat turned away and strode purposefully after his boss, probably to settle the rest of his plans for the animals being exported from South Africa and get back into his boss’s good graces.

Yuuri felt a twinge of sadness in his chest at the thought.

Every animal in this room and many creatures in the future would be bought and sold by wealthy people who wanted exotic bragging rights, circuses who wanted a set of extraordinary beasts in their repertoire of strange acts, people who would use them as rare meats, who would turn them into handbags, use their organs in drugs, crush their bones to dust, feed their carcasses to other animals, and destroy every trace that they’d ever existed in the world. Their life would be snuffed without a second thought.

It would be as if they’d never existed. Meanwhile, time would keep on moving forward and most of the world would never give a thought to the thousands of animals that perished alone and in pain every single day.

With a heavy heart, Yuuri rested his chin on his tail and watched the bright lights dim in the warehouse. He fell asleep gradually to the quiet noises of the nocturnal animals as they stirred awake and made their restless pacings around the perimeters of too-small cages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Researching for this story has opened my eyes to the plight of so many animals across the world. Exotic animals are amazing creatures, but it's my personal opinion that they should never be pets. The trade and selling of them is honestly so horrible.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, subscribing, kudo-ing, and especially commenting. You guys make me want to keep on writing


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The leader of the exotic animal trade decides to teach Yuuri a little lesson...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments in the last chapter! I couldn't do this without your support!

There was a strange animal in the cage next to him. Its huge yellow eyes stared at Yuuri as if stuck in an eternal expression of shock. The creature chittered and clung to the bars of its steel prison, black-and-white striped tail lashing back and forth. The kitsune watched it curiously, amused by the amount of frenetic energy put forth by the small animal.

The tapping of a cane and multiple footstops broke him out of his interest. Yuuri skittered backward, bracing himself against the wall of his cage as the large man, Marat, and a few other animal keepers drew near. The latter men brandished what looked like long batons in their hands. The ends of the black rods, however, were slightly thicker than normal, covered in what looked like rings, and inset in the center with two small prongs.

“I’ve heard that foxes are quite difficult beasts. Their wild instincts make them impossibly stubborn to train and discipline. Nevertheless, most animals I’ve been warned about are easy to mold when fear is involved,” the imposing man smiled sweetly as if he had just told Yuuri that they would be having Katsudon for dinner.

The kitsune’s eyes narrowed as the animal keepers raised their batons. Those couldn’t just be normal rods to beat him with. Something was wrong.

The fur along his neck, back, and tail spiked. Instincts buried deep in his body flared to life suddenly, each screaming the same warning-  _ DANGER _ . Yuuri pressed himself closer to the wall of the cage, heartbeat drumming violently in his chest at the notion that there was nowhere left to go.

The man with the cane lifted the latch on his cage and swung the door wide open, stepping back to present Yuuri with the clear opening to escape. The kitsune’s paws twitched, but refused to move toward the opening of the cage. Adrenaline was pumping through his body, drilling into every nerve that this was a trap.

He couldn’t help his lips peeling back from his teeth, though. A low rumble escaped his throat, almost too quiet to hear over the noises of the other animals in the warehouse.

The man with the cane frowned at him, lips thinning in disapproval.

“Careful, beast. I have teeth too, you see. Giving me trouble will cost you.”

The large man reached his hand into the cage.

Every nerve in Yuuri’s body was alight with delicious burning fire. He couldn’t help himself and the instincts that drove him to incapacitate the threat before him so he could escape.

The kitsune’s body reacted by lunging forward, teeth snapping at the warm flesh offered to him by the enemy.

The man with the cane was faster, though. Barely.

His arm jerked back and filthy expletives spilled from his lips as he staggered away from the kitsune’s cage. Yuuri hissed at him, hackles raised as he stood shaking in the center of his prison.

Then there was only white hot pain filling his vision with heat and agony. It was like his flesh was being sliced open with a knife and then sewn shut with salt. The burn travelled up his flank and through his spine, melting his insides to liquid, throbbing fire. Yuuri’s legs buckled under the agony coursing through his body and he folded into himself as if curling into a ball would mute the pain.

He could barely turn his head to see that one of the animal keepers had stepped up next to his cage and slammed the end of the baton into his hind leg.

Except the baton was no simple rod anymore. The end with the prongs was crackling and sparking with electricity.

Stun batons.

Yuuri whined, trying desperately to move his legs. To run. To attack. To hide himself against the cage’s corners to escape those awful batons...he didn’t know. He just needed to get away from the suffering of his body.

The man with the cane chuckled and brushed imaginary dust off his trousers as if shaking off the embarrassment of almost having his hand ripped to shreds. “I see you’ve been blessed with a little taste of 800,000 volts of electricity. Poor little fox.”

Yuuri’s tail twitched restlessly, the only part of his body still capable of movement. He had to hold his body back from challenging the man again. The stun batons hurt too much to be worth the satisfaction.

The man with the cane reached into the cage again, and this time Yuuri let him.

Rough fingers enclosed over the scruff at the base of his neck, squeezing down into the skin and tissue beneath so Yuuri’s body went lax without his permission.

He was manhandled out of the cage by a surprisingly strong set of arms. Shame flooded the kitsune’s body, made worse by the sight of the smug grins on the animal keeper’s faces. Even Marat looked positively self-congratulatory.

The man with the cane turned Yuuri’s body, appraising him from all sides. “Healthy. Bit on the skinny side, but a few meals would fix that. I’m sure our buyer wouldn’t mind a few ribs sticking out here and there, eh boys?”

_ Buyer _ .

Yuuri’s heart stuttered in his chest. Where could he possibly be sent to now? Who would keep him this time? Who would flood his body with tranquilizers, withhold meals and water from him, shock him with collars and batons, and beat him until every bone in his body was screaming this time?

Brown eyes caught sight of the strange little creature still watching him from its perch on the steel bars of the cage. It’s claws clung desperately to the metal to hold its body up off the ground. Hanging from those small bars must be painful.

In a natural habitat, it’s field of vision wouldn’t be broken by a set of silver rods. It could move freely among trees and vines in a lush jungle filled to the brim with life, playmates, and adventure. It would probably live out its days on the prowl for food and mates, probably sleep in the trees with others of its kind. It had probably spent every waking day of its life up until now seeing the same gold eyes and striped tail in all the creatures in the trees of its home. Now it would spend its remaining days looking at a black fox and prison bars.

A flashing in his eyes tore Yuuri away from the sight of the exotic animal. The metal jaguar head set into the man’s cane was glinting in the lights above them. The once unblemished metal was darkened by spots that looked like rust. Dark red, almost brown... _ blood _ . There was blood on the man’s cane.

Yuuri’s eyes shifted to the strange little animal clinging to the bars of its cage. It had turned slightly to give a profile of its body. The creature’s grey hide was spotted with drying blood, broken near the belly with scratches. The fur in these spots had been ripped off.  

The kitsune couldn’t help the rage that flooded through him at the sight of the abuse done on an animal so expressive and filled with pure energy. Yuuri twisted in the man’s hold, fighting the aftershocks of pain still travelling through his body from the stun baton, and sank his teeth deep into the large man’s wrist.

For a moment, there was silence, made heavy by the tension in the room as every pair of eyes travelled down to the spot where Yuuri’s canines were buried in the large man’s arm.

Then there was a flash as the world spun sideways. Yuuri was slammed into the ground like a ragdoll, reeling at the sudden force of impact with the floor. A scream shattered the silence in the room by the large man clutching his bleeding wrist to his chest.

The evil man whirled on Yuuri, cane arcing wildly in his hand as he turned.

And then he brought it down.

Hard.

Yuuri felt the metal head split the skin of his shoulder. The force of the hit resounded down Yuuri’s shoulder blade with a sickening  _ crack  _ that seemed to echo throughout the building.

Red hot agony spiraled through the now-useless arm. But Yuuri’s instincts were stronger than the pain.

Adrenaline pushed his body to a stance, weight transferred among his three working legs. Yuuri staggered forward, wincing as bursts of pain split through his shoulder with every step.

The animal keepers in the room were distracted by their bleeding boss, stun batons forgotten in their hands.

Yuuri launched himself through the legs of one dumbfounded man and sprinted away, ignoring the throbbing in his leg that creaked ominously with every bound he took for the escape door.

With every contact between his paws and the floor, the images of the animals still left in the warehouse burned behind his eyelids. Animals watching mournfully as one of their own escaped with freedom lighting every step. Animals too weak to move, too lost to do more than breathe and stare. Animals that didn’t deserve to live this way.

_ I will get you out. Each and every one of you. I’ll return to save you. I promise _ , Yuuri whispered in his head to the rhythmic drumming of his paws to freedom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has Viktor in it!!!!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Viktor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read chapter 3 yet, head on over there! 
> 
> I've posted 2 chapters today and this is the second one. I couldn't help myself:) This chapter has been posted a day earlier than scheduled. Enjoy!

“ _Vitya_ , your free leg is sloppy! Straighten it! You look like a drunk flamingo!” Yakov’s voice echoed across the rink where Viktor was just spinning out of a rocker choctaw sequence. The coach’s voice was made louder by the absence of any other skaters practicing on the ice. It was nearing 10 PM, but Viktor had decided to stay for a couple more hours to perfect his free skate step sequence.

“ _Poydom, khvatit nyt'_ , Yakooov,” the Russian skater pouted, sliding to a smooth stop in front of his coach. “Flamingos are majestic creatures.”

“That’s not what I’m seeing on the ice from you. Even a Novice could perform that sequence better than you can. You’re not letting the music carry your movements and it’s hurting your performance!”

Viktor reached for the towel folded neatly under his water bottle, stubbornly refusing to answer the elder man. He’d been working on the sequence for months now and the moves were like muscle memory. But that didn’t mean they were expressive and worthy of the music piece he’d had composed for the program. He needed to feel _Stammi Vicino_ in every weight transfer of his blade, every turn, every counter, every twizzle, until his entire body was thrumming with the music of loneliness.

_Stammi Vicino_ was a call in the dark for life. His “L” words had slowly disappeared in his life as his skating career flared into existence. Now there was little else left of him than the shell of a once passionate dream. Viktor was losing himself to the media and its misery. Soon he’d be nothing. Just a distant, fleeting memory.

_Stammi Vicino_ was his last chance to awaken the fire in his heart. When was the last time every nerve in his body had burned with fiery passion? When was the last time he was excited to step out onto the ice? When was the last time he’d skated and truly had fun doing so?

Now he was just a puppet to control for the sake of an audience. He was the headline that stories on the front covers of magazines glorified. He was the playboy, the mysterious womanizer. Living Legend, figure skating champion, the face of Russia, the face of the _world_.

And he was empty. Inside and out, he was just a tired man who had reached the end of his prime.

Perhaps _Stammi Vicino_ would unlock that part of himself that wanted to skate just because it could. Once, it had been fun flying on the ice when there were no expectations or regulations to restrict him. _Stammi Vicino_ was the shout into a void of emptiness, hoping for something (or even someone) to call back.

“Take a break, Vitya,” Yakov’s voice was unexpectedly gentle, although a bit gruff sounding and sheepish escaping from the coach’s lips. A warm, callused hand rested comfortably against his back. Viktor froze under the sudden gesture, unused to any casual expression of concern for his well-being. He relaxed under Yakov’s hand and then nodded, setting his water bottle down on the rink boards.

“Think of what _Stammi Vicino_ means to you. You want something out of it. That’s obvious, but I don’t think even you know what you want deep down inside. Take some time to reflect. I’ll see you Monday morning, 5 AM. Don’t be late.”

Viktor sighed and, grabbing his skate guards, stepped off the ice.

_Stammi Vicino_ was one of his more personal programs, but even Yakov could see that there was something missing from it. Some emotion that would make the skate medal worthy. Right now it was like a house with all the right foundations and walls, but no pretty decor to make it home. He needed to ponder the choreography, the story, the theme, and the lyrics of his music a bit more.

Something had drawn him to the composition and the program’s idea. Now he just had to flesh it out, tease out the bits and pieces he was afraid to uncover and admit to himself. No wonder Yakov had given him the weekend to think. Whatever was buried deep in his heart would probably hurt to admit aloud and would take time to come to terms with.

Viktor just had to be ready to be honest with himself.  

The Russian skater slung his bag over his shoulder and ambled out of the rink doors, taking the streets and sidewalks to his apartment rather than the late night buses. He may as well start thinking about his program now. Perhaps a walk would clear his mind and make room for the dust in his heart.

The night air was cold and crisp. Every breath Viktor drew in teased his lungs with little pinpricks of pain, as if he was breathing in actual shards of ice and feeling them catch on the back of his throat. The steam from his breath curled into the starry sky above like a lazy serpentine dragon unfurling its body into the air. The streetlights shone pale yellow on the snow encrusted sidewalks below, giving everything within sight an almost creepy ambience, like he was on the set of a horror film and about to meet his demise at the hands of a serial killer.

While St. Petersburg was a gorgeous city in the late hours, Viktor’s feet hurt and he just wanted to curl up on the couch with Makkachin and stew about his unsuccessful practice. Perhaps a warm cup of tea with jam in it would sooth his ragged nerves and give him peace enough to sleep tonight.

Perhaps he could call _mama._ Her soothing voice in his ear over the phone always made him feel relaxed, safe, and like nothing in the world could touch him. Maybe she could even give him a bit of advice about his program. Mothers often seemed to know their children more than the children knew themselves. She always had an answer for him.

_Life seems to be full of hard choices and pain when we view it one piece at a time, like one dry spell after another after another after another. Live and let live, my Vitya. You deserve all happiness the world can give_.

A muffled scratching broke Viktor out of his thoughts. He froze in place in the center of the sidewalk and peered around wildly, trying to place the direction of the sudden noise. It was coming from the alleyway next to him, behind one of the apartment dumpsters.

Probably a rat.

Viktor’s lip curled and he turned away toward his apartment again only a couple blocks down the street.

A quiet whine sounded behind him, the noise replete with pain and misery.

Viktor turned around again and picked his way carefully over discarded trash and puddles to the dumpster where the whine had come from. It didn’t sound like any rodent. In fact, it sounded like a cat or a dog in pain.

The skater’s heart raced as he set his bag down next to the dumpster and took hold of the cold green metal. The stench inside the garbage disposal was absolutely nauseating. Grit and waste long petrified to the metal sank under his fingernails as he gripped the edge of the dumpster and heaved. It gave way with a loud screech and Viktor tugged it away from the wall.

Wedged into the space between the brick wall of the apartment and the dumpster was a small cardboard box, bent and ripped and soaked through with water and probably waste. Viktor sidled as close as he could against the wall, jamming his body into the open space made by moving the dumpster. He winced as the wet brick soaked through his training shirt and hit his bare skin with ice.

Finally he could move no more. Viktor stretched his fingertips toward the box, catching the rim on one of the sides. He tugged the cardboard gently toward him, straining against the weight of something inside.

Upon closer inspection, he could catch sight of a little ball of soaking black fur curled against the corners of the box. Viktor gasped, pulling at the flaps to reveal the miserable, broken animal inside.

The mass of black fur shifted and roiled as a narrow head turned around to reveal a pair of beautiful chocolate brown eyes flecked with gold. The animal blinked at him muddily, great big luminous eyes holding pain and tiredness in their depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poydom, khvatit nyt' means 'come on, stop whining'
> 
> Next chapter, Viktor takes Yuuri home...
> 
> Thanks for all the reads, kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks!!! You guys are the greatest!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor finds Yuuri...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

“Hi, sweetheart,” Viktor crooned softly to the shivering animal before him. The chocolate brown eyes were clouded over with drowsiness, as if the Russian skater had woken it from a long nap. Except there was pain slowly filling the depths, probably brought on by Viktor’s abrupt awakening.

“Will you let me get you out of there, little one?” He murmured, reaching down to pull the box closer to him. He needed to get it out from behind the dumpster. This alleyway was no place for the poor creature.

The lethargy was slowly leaking from the brown eyes with every second, leaving them alert and sharp. Suspicion filled the orbs, sharpening the cloudy sleepiness to clarity. Viktor leaned down to pull the box the remaining distance out from behind the dumpster when the little animal let out a quiet warning growl.

“Hey, hey,” Viktor frowned, watching as the animal struggled to move out of the box and away from him. “I’m trying to help you, little one. Let me get you out of there.”

He crouched down against the wall, leaning up against the bricks so he could pull the cardboard box the remaining distance. Another louder growl sounded and the little animal bared its teeth at Viktor, brown eyes filled with fear and pain. Lips were curled slightly over milk white teeth.

A warning.

The poor thing was showing him the sharpness of its canines as if to warn him that they were ready to use if Viktor misstepped.

“Oh, you poor darling,” Viktor sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Who hurt you?”

The fear was still there in the pretty brown eyes. The sight was enough to break the Russian skater’s heart. Animals didn’t fear people like this for no reason. Something had to have happened to the shivering ball of fur to make it distrust Viktor so quickly.

He couldn’t leave it here though. If starvation didn’t kill the little animal, then the cold, wet Russian winter certainly would. It probably wouldn’t even survive the night in that little soaked box.

The thought was enough to spur Viktor into action. He couldn’t just leave it to die, not when he could do something to save it.

He inched his hand slowly forward, wary of the growls growing increasingly louder from the black mass of fur. The animal finally snapped at him warningly. The teeth came nowhere near his hand, but Viktor still jerked it back as if he’d been zapped with a bolt of electricity.

Clearly this wasn’t working. The little animal was too afraid of him no matter how soft his voice was. He needed a new strategy.

If the little creature was hungry, perhaps Viktor could coax it out with something it couldn’t resist.

The skater reluctantly stepped away from the dumpster and turned to his skating bag, searching through the front pockets for snacks he’d packed to eat throughout the day at the rink.

There was only a half eaten peanut butter protein bar wrapped up in a little bag.

It would do.

Viktor split the bar into 3 bite-sized pieces and returned to the dumpster.

The little animal was still regarding the spot the skater had just left with suspicion. Its gaze seemed to grow sharper when Viktor crouched into view again.

“Alright, you’re going to have to work with me, _krasavets_. Please let me get you out of here.”

He shoved one of the protein pieces into the open space without thinking.

The little animal skittered away with a quiet yelp and struggled against the walls of its little cardboard box, scrabbling up and over the edge to limp to the other end of the dumpster still pressed up against the wall.

If it crawled under the dumpster, Viktor would never get it out.

“Shit. No, no, no, don’t do that!” Viktor cried and reached for the battered creature. It let out a pained whine and shrank away from his hand. Huddled against the corner where the dumpster was pressed against the brick wall, the little creature searched desperately for a way to escape.

The movements were enough to point out to Viktor that it was favoring one of its legs. The left shoulder blade looked a bit disfigured, as if the bone beneath had been dislocated...or shattered.

“Poor darling,” Viktor whispered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “It’s ok, _malen’kiy_. You’re safe with me. I won’t harm you.”

The little creature shuddered in its corner, looking beyond terrified cornered up against the dumpster with no way to escape. There was so much pain and sorrow in its eyes, a physical agony and probably an emotional one. Viktor couldn’t imagine the strife it must’ve been through.

He laid the protein piece on the ground and pushed it toward the shivering animal, being careful to make his movements careful and slow. He couldn’t reach very far into the open space, but the protein piece was only about a foot away from the quaking ball of black fur.

Tired chocolate eyes locked on the protein bar lying temptingly on the dirt-crusted pavement. It must’ve been so long since the poor animal had eaten, because the little thing couldn’t help but stare at the ball of peanut butter with hunger. A small black paw carefully stepped away from its corner and closer to the piece of food. The poor creature glanced between the peanut butter bite to Viktor and back again, on guard in case the skater tried to ambush it while it was unawares.

When it was about half a foot away, the little animal stretched the rest of the way and snatched the piece up before racing back to the corner of the dumpster, licking its chops as if savoring the bit of food.

Viktor smiled reassuringly and reached for the second piece. This time, he placed it closer to himself to coax the animal further away from its corner.

The black ball of fur stared mournfully down at the protein bite so far away before sidling up to it, a little faster than before. More comfortable. Still a bit hesitant.

This time it snatched the piece up and turned hesitantly to Viktor as if asking for more. The skater could see its mangled leg shaking slightly. All the movement back and forth between the dumpster corner and the protein bites was probably causing the animal absolute agony.

“You’re going to have to come to me, sweetheart. I can’t leave you out here or you’ll die. Sweet _lapochka_. Let me take care of you. Come here, beautiful.” Viktor continued crooning to the shaking ball of fur, holding out the last of the protein bar.

Luminous brown eyes searched his face hesitantly before darkening with something like determination. It took slow, painful steps to Viktor’s hand, shaking violently as it drew nearer. Its nose was only inches away from the skater’s palm when it seemed to freeze, terror filling its eyes with indecision.

Viktor moved his hand closer, and as the animal snatched the last bit of the protein bar, the Russian skater reached out and sank his fingers into the soft fur on the top of its head. He rubbed the pricked ears, smoothing the pointed triangular shapes with warm, soothing fingers.

A soft grumble escape the little animal’s mouth as it chewed. It paid no heed to Viktor running his fingers through its fur.

The Russian skater chuckled and smoothed the ears down, marvelling at the velvety softness of the hair in his fingers. He ran his hands down the animal’s neck to his back, blinking away tears as his fingers skipped over too many ribs, a bony spine, the mangled protrusion of its left shoulder blade.

The little creature froze when the fingers circled over its injured shoulder, but it relaxed under Viktor’s fingers when the Russian man scritched under its chin with his other hand and then stroked its ears back.

“Hi, little one. Thank you for trusting me.”

He caressed the animal’s sides and under his belly, trying to find the best place to scoop up the little ball of fur.

The chocolate brown eyes watched him with something like awe, as if it hadn’t expected to be treated so gently under the skater’s hands.

Viktor continued speaking soft and low as he tugged the little animal closer. Finally, he pulled the tiny ball of fur up and into his arms.

A soft whine sounded in his ear and immediately the Russian skater softened his grip, tucking the little black paws against his chest, exceedingly mindful of the injured shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m sorry about everything you’ve been through. But you’re safe now.  _Safe,_ ” Viktor repeated, crooning quietly to the blinking ball of fur in his arms. The little animal’s heartbeat was as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, but it was starting to slow in the circle of the skater’s arms.

With a cute grunt, it shifted, fitting its little body into the warmth of Viktor’s chest. The Russian skater smiled and pulled the ends of his coat closed so he could zip the little animal up against his body.

A quiet sigh sounded beneath him as the little ball of fur tucked its head under the skater’s chin and went limp in his arms.

Viktor’s heart melted.

“ _Dorogoy_. I’m taking you home with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I know, protein bars without chocolate aren't deadly to most animals, but unless it's the only thing you have with you, it wouldn't be the best option to help out a starving stray :D
> 
> 'Krasavets': beautiful  
> 'Malen'kiy': little one  
> 'Lapochka': sweetie pie  
> 'Dorogoy': dear
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: meeting Makka!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor takes Yuuri to his apartment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have the greatest beta reader ever now! You guys need to check out Songbirdsara (https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbirdsara/pseuds/Songbirdsara/works) and read their amazing works! One of my favorites is Reclaim the Stars. I love the relationship between Yuuri and Viktor in this one. I was immediately intrigued by the first chapter and then I was squealing every time each update brought Yuuri and Viktor closer and closer to reunion. Their love (literally) transcends time and space :D

Viktor walked briskly toward his apartment. The little animal in his coat was shivering violently and dripping wet. If the skater didn’t raise its body temperature soon, it could die and all the work of getting it out from behind the dumpster would be for naught. Once he could get it bundled up in his warm apartment, he could call the veterinarian and figure out what to do.

In the glow of the streetlights, Viktor could see how the animal’s fur had probably once been sleek and smooth and jet black. Its coat must’ve been absolutely magnificent at some point in time. Now it was mangy and covered in dirt and dumpster grime. Its tail, perhaps once full and luxurious, was covered in burrs and soaked with water.

The skater couldn’t really identify what kind of animal was in his arms. In the dim light of the alley, he had assumed it was a cat. Up close, it somewhat resembled a little feline. But it also mirrored a small dog, maybe some kind of mutt mix. It was hard to tell with the animal tucked so close to his body.

He smiled and gently squeezed the bundle of fur in his arms. The creature in his coat let out a quiet grunt and shifted against his chest. Sleepy chocolate eyes blinked once, twice, and then closed in surrender to the temptation of slumber. Viktor stroked its big ears back, smoothing the soft hairs between his fingers.

When his apartment came into view, Viktor fished his keys out of his pocket with some effort, trying hard not to wake the sleepy animal. But the luminous brown eyes snapped open at the slight jostling and it peeked around, jerking its head left, right, and over his shoulder.

“ _Ostavaytes', malo,_ ” Viktor whispered quietly, rubbing the little animal’s snout and scritching the space between its eyes. A soft croon escaped the bundle of fur. The little creature leaned its head into the skater’s palm, seeking more of the strokes and touches.

Viktor was just sticking his keys into the door when he remembered.

Makkachin.

The skater cursed under his breath and glanced worriedly at the bundle of fur. “I hope you like dogs,” he murmured.

The little animal only blinked prettily back at him.

Viktor turned the doorknob and listened for the wild scrabble of paws on the wooden floors. An exuberant _woof_ sounded and his curly haired poodle bounded out of his bedroom and around the corner, tongue lolling out of her mouth. Makkachin skidded to a stop in front of him, canting her head in wonder at the bulge cradled in Viktor’s coat.

It was comical how she tilted her head and lifted one of her floppy ears as if to hear better. Maybe dogs could sense heartbeats. If so, then Makka could probably hear the hummingbird beat of the little animal’s heart.

The poodle nosed her way into Viktor’s space, sniffing the swell under his coat. There was a foreign scent, some type of animal-

Makkachin barked excitedly, pressing her nose into the soft fabric of Viktor jacket.

The little animal in the skater’s arms squeaked and scrambled to get away from the larger poodle, but its leg flared in agony at the movement. Quiet whimpers of pain escaped its throat as it buried its head in Viktor’s neck.

" _Myesto_ , Makkachin! Sit!”

The poodle obeyed and gave a curious glance at the terrified animal in the skater’s coat.

“Be gentle,” the Russian man murmured, smiling as his dog wagged her tail and shuffled hesitantly closer.

Viktor acquiesced and leaned down so the animals could sniff at each other. The little black bundle of fur regarded the poodle suspiciously and maybe a little fearfully. It flinched when Makkachin got too close, but it didn’t growl at her, a feat Viktor was in awe of.

“You growl at me, but you don’t growl at Makkachin,” he pouted, stroking the animal’s back. It relaxed under his hand and watched as Makkachin turned away, seemingly uninterested in it now that it had failed to immediately play with her. She turned her attention to the skater, wagging her tail expectantly.

The skater laughed, “ _Khorosho_ , Makka. Let me get this little thing settled and I’ll take you out. Maybe I should call Yuri to come over. He might need to watch you while I’m at the vet.”

At the word ‘vet’, Makkachin let out a loud bark. The little animal in his coat flinched at the noise and let out an irritated grumble.

Viktor smiled and stroked its fur gently. “We’ll get you to a vet, soon. I would take you now, but unfortunately my car does not agree with the cold weather. Hopefully Yuri can come down. Or maybe Yakov.”

As he spoke, he strolled to the linen closet in the hallway where he kept his soft flannel fleece blankets. The little animal peeked over his arm as he opened the door and watched curiously as he pulled down a few of his softest grey blankets. Hidden behind the folded bundles was one of Makkachin’s old dog beds from when she was a small puppy.

The bed was circular shaped and padded on the bottom with memory foam cushions. The walls circling the little bed were high and lined with soft fleece stitched over with dog bone patterns. This looked a million times more comfortable than the soaking wet cardboard box it had been hiding in.

Viktor tugged it out of the closet carefully, so as not to jostle the little bundle of fur in his arms, and headed to the living room. He laid the dog bed on the floor and draped one of the grey blankets over it. Then he unzipped his jacket, stroking the little animal’s back as it began shivering violently.

“Shhh, shhh,” he crooned, maneuvering it gently in his arms as he wrapped it up in the second blanket, being carefully not to hurt the broken shoulder. The little animal nuzzled into the warm fleece and watched him sleepily as he laid it in the center of the dog bed. “I’ll be right back,” Viktor whispered, tugging gently at the soft black ears.

The bundle of fur and blankets let out a quiet grunt and curled lazily into the soft fleece. Chocolate brown eyes closed and surrendered to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ostavaytes', malo: stay still  
> Myesto: stay  
> Khorosho: alright
> 
> Updates should be flowing in now. This weekend was just crazy. Apparently I signed up for one of the hardest classes on campus and the professor told us that only one student in all his years of teaching the class has gotten a 99 in it, which of course is an awesome grade and all, but the fact that that is the highest number is kind of alarming.
> 
> But anyway, I have so many plans for the next few chapters and I'm really excited to knock them out! Bring on the fluff!!!!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor makes plans for the new addition to the family...Makkachin tries to bond...

“ _Yuraaaa_ , I need a favor from you,” Viktor sang pleasantly into his phone.

It was nearing midnight in sleepy St. Petersburg. There was only the dim noise from passing cars and the quiet laughter of teenagers prowling the empty streets and alleyways. The air outside was colder now and every breeze that brushed Viktor’s face and clothes carried a bone-rattling chill. Already his cheeks, nose, and ears were bright red and flushed.

The snow that was piled up along buildings and street curbs shone in the amber glow of the streetlights. It crunched under Makkachin’s paws when she climbed over the mounds to sniff at something along the cement walls. The ice on the sidewalks was slippery and scuffed black from pedestrians milling about earlier in the day.

Makkachin trotted companionably at his side, sniffing every now and then through her wet nose. The steam of her breath escaped into the midnight air, fluttering and curling upwards before disappearing in the still black. Viktor squeezed her leash in his hands until his palms were warm with the burn of clenching muscles.

He had called Yuri Plisetsky on his cell phone four times until the other line picked up and the angry teen demanded to know why Viktor was calling so late. He pulled the phone away from his ear and held it away as the disgruntled shouting sounded over the speakers.

_“....k you old man....almost midnight….practice tomorrow…stop calling me or I’ll block you.”_

“You’re so mean,” Viktor pouted, shifting Makkachin’s leash to his other hand so he could press the phone to his ear again. “This is an emergency.”

_“I don’t care if you’re bleeding out on the streets. Goodnight!”_

“Yurio! You don’t even know what kind of emergency this is. There’s this stray I found-”

_“I’m not helping you out with your stupid fu-”_

“Language-”

_“-ing charity cases. Leave me alone!”_

“Yurio, please,” Viktor sighed, squeezing the phone so hard, he heard a protesting creak under his fingers. “I don’t have a car and the poor thing is hurt really bad. He’s soaking wet and shivering. I think its leg is broken too. It won’t stop whining in pain and it breaks my heart to see it that way. I can’t wait for the animal hospitals to open tomorrow. I need to get it to the emergency clinic now.”

There was silence on the other line. Finally a sigh. _“Fine, old man. But I’m not doing it for you. See you soon.”_

Viktor smiled. Yuri Plisetsky was an angry child, but inside, he had a heart of gold.

The skater looked down, meeting Makkachin’s eyes. “Sorry, I’m going to have to leave you tonight, darling. It’s going to be hours until I’m home safe with the newest addition to our family. Hopefully he’ll be cleared to come home by tomorrow.”

Her tail beat rhythmically against the cold ground.

“You were so sweet with him today. I bet it won’t be long until the two of you are inseparable. I think he’s just scared and hurt and tired right now. He’ll warm up to my sweet girl eventually,” Viktor grinned, pulling at the curls on top of Makkachin’s head. She licked his fingers, tail flying enthusiastically.

The skater stood and gently tugged the poodle back to the apartment, images of the hurt animal flashing through his mind. It was obvious that the little thing had suffered at the hands of humans. It shied away from him in the alleyway and cowered even now when Viktor moved his hands too quickly or raised his voice above a whisper. Hopefully with time the little animal could learn to trust him. Viktor would never lay a threatening hand on it.

He had seen the way many dogs in life were treated horribly. Owners were always quick to dole out a punishing smack when their pets failed to obey a command quickly. They tugged violently at the leashes when their dogs stopped only to sniff a patch of weeds during a walk. They snapped when dogs got too playful, when they barked, when they whined, when they needed exercise, when they needed food, when they needed to potty, when they _breathed_.

Viktor had been gifted Makkachin by his parents when she was a puppy and the skater was just leaving the house to move in with Yakov and spend every waking moment of his life training. He had promised the scrabbling poodle puppy in his arms that he would never raise his voice against her or do anything to make her fear him. He was patient with her training. Now she loved him unconditionally, without fear.

It didn’t matter if the little animal in the alleyway was a cat or a dog. Viktor would be patient, only showing love and comfort, until the little thing felt relaxed and safe.

As the skater turned the key in his door, he began to make a list of the questions he’d ask the veterinarian. First and foremost, what species the little animal was. If it was a dog, what kind of dog? If it was a cat, what kind of cat? How old was it? Did it belong to anyone? What was the adoption process like if Viktor wanted to care for it? What food would he need to get to bring it back to a healthy weight? What diet plan for when it finally reached that healthy weight? Would it need therapy for its injuries, physical and emotional? What kind of stimulation and exercise did it need? What shots did it need?

The door clicked and opened. Makkachin nosed her way through the crack and into the apartment, tail wagging as she sought out the little animal in the living room.

“Makkachin! Don’t disturb it! _Byt' terpelivoy, sumasshedshaya devushka,_ ” Viktor laughed, shutting the apartment door. He rounded the corner into the living room and caught sight of Makkachin plopping down in front of the dog bed, hindquarters raised in play.

“Makka,” Viktor warned. The poodle turned her head, ears cocked innocently. “He’s too hurt to play. Let him be.”

His dog let out a disgruntled whine and slumped down the rest of the way, laying her chin on the fleece-lined walls of the bed. The gray blankets shifted as the little ball of fur untucked its head from inside the soft blankets and peeked curiously out at the disappointed poodle. Makkachin’s tail wagged at the sight of the animal. She licked its nose gently and pulled away when it let out a tired grunt.

The sleepy chocolate eyes watched her as she nosed closer and pressed her snout into the soft blankets. With a cute noise, the little animal tucked its face against hers and went limp.

Viktor melted.

“So cute,” he whispered, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. Perhaps he could start an Instagram for the two of them when the little animal was released from the vet. Makkachin’s own account already had more followers than Viktor’s did. Surely everyone would go head over heels at the cuteness these two garnered.

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byt' terpelivoy, sumasshedshaya devushka: Be patient, crazy girl
> 
> Thanks for reading still! You guys are the greatest :D


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri reflects on the beautiful man who saved him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little late being posted. I was up late writing the chapter :) but my amazing beta reader still managed to edit this before the end of the day!

It was hard to believe everything that had happened in the past few months. Yuuri had been kidnapped from his home in Japan, shipped to Russia, thrown in a cage, sold by animal traffickers, abused, beaten, and starved. He barely managed to escape his imprisonment, but not without bruises and broken bones that set his whole body on fire with agony. Tired and ready to give in to the rushing pain, he had curled up in a frail box in some alleyway and prayed that he could survive the night against the cold.

And then he was found.

A beautiful silver-haired angel had come to save him. Crouched against the grime-stained dumpster and faded brick walls of the alleyway, he’d coaxed Yuuri out of hiding and, subsequently, the real human side back from the sleepy void he’d fallen into. Yuuri had given into his instincts after escaping from the animal traffickers, content to hand over control and entrust his life to the fox.

It was hard to say when exactly his consciousness had returned. There were distant, muffled words crooned to him through the darkness. The voice was gentle, musical, and Yuuri had unfurled from the deep blackness in his mind where he’d hidden away to get closer to the sweet music.

And then there was sight. Blurred at first. An open palm offering freedom and peace, flashes of silver in the black of his mind, and then...blue.

There were no words to describe the blue. It was a mosaic of exquisite cobalts, an ocean of cerulean waves tipped and foaming with turquoise, an endless sapphire tundra powdered with cyan and teal and robin egg crystals, boundless and unending, like a dazzling fractal spiraling endlessly down, deeper and deeper and deeper.

The blue eyes had pierced the darkness in his mind, as instant as a flashlight cuts the fabric of night, like the birth of a new star in the universe, flaring into existence with blazing zeal...enthralling, arresting, and startlingly brilliant.

Maybe he was delirious from pain and exhaustion, but the man before him was more beautiful than anything Yuuri had ever seen in his life. The kitsune could only marvel at the softness in those blue eyes, the gentle way that voice coaxed him out from the darkness, the comfort of arms surrounding him with safety and warmth.

He had been taken to a warm home, swaddled in the softest blankets, laid to rest in a cozy bed, and guarded by a poodle as gentle as her patient master. Yuuri felt at peace in the presence of the man and his dog, and the notion was both exhilarating and terrifying at once, because he felt at home here.

Now he was cradled in the arms of a young boy who had stomped into the silver-haired angel’s house, loud and firey, a litany of Russian expletives escaping from his lips. Yuuri had cowered slightly when the boy caught sight of him curled in the blankets. The green eyes had seemed electric with fury, but they’d softened on Yuuri’s broken form entwined in the shroud of gray covers.

The blond Russian had held out his hand for the kitsune to sniff, and then the long and thin fingers had set to work rubbing his ears, underneath his chin, along his cheeks to the base of his neck. Yuuri had purred in his blankets, content and tranquil under the experienced hands, muscles turning to liquid...until he tried to shift further into the cozy bed and strained his shoulder in the process.

White hot pain shot through his body, so excruciating, Yuuri had flinched away with a scream.

There was a flurry of motion. The silver-haired man had rushed to his side frantically, drawing Yuuri up into his arms, stroking his ears back in the way that made the kitsune’s eyes almost roll back in pleasure. But it was hard to focus on the wonderful touches with the pain that had returned tenfold to his body. He couldn’t help the agonized whimpers from escaping his lips as he tucked himself into the hollow of the silver-haired man’s throat.

A soft rumble travelled deliciously through Yuuri’s body as the man crooned to him. The soft Russian words danced in his ears like music and the tune was enough to send him into dizzy lethargy. He could almost forget the ache in his body. It was a distant thing, pulsing warningly, but held at bay by the Russian man before him.

And then the trio- kitsune and both Russians- were off, flying through the apartment doors and into a warm car waiting idly at the curb. The silver-haired man slid into the driver’s seat, handing Yuuri’s lax body to the young blond boy. And Yuuri was distracted by a new set of hands and soft pets to distract from the pain.

The kitsune settled his chin on the boy’s chest, content to watch the interaction between the Russians in the car. They seemed tense and worried, but Yuuri could sense the nearly-invisible thread linking the two together. Affection lined that thread like a thin film, probably a brotherly bond, forged over a long period of time.

Yuuri was too tired to expend his energy trying to read the familial tie. Perhaps when he was healed, his empathic abilities would return, and the kitsune could bask in the pure light reflected by these thin threads of fate.

The car halted in front of a bright building and the two Russians fled the car, practically running to the double glass doors ahead. Yuuri grumbled at the sudden winter cold biting viciously at his nose. He buried his head into the collar of the blond boy’s jacket where the strip of exposed skin was warm. Absent fingers smoothed the fur of his ears and the kitsune purred.

The silver-haired Russian was at the front counter when Yuuri and the blond boy caught up to him. The Russian was gesticulating wildly to a tired woman sitting in front of a computer.

The kitsune could barely concentrate on their exchange. His eyes were burning from the bright lights in the ceiling overhead. He missed the dark homeyness of the silver-haired Russian’s apartment.

The trio collapsed into a set of uncomfortable, fraying furniture in the clinic waiting area. The blond Russian boy handed Yuuri over to the silver-haired man and the kitsune curled up comfortably in the warm arms. The beautiful Russian had a wonderful scent, but it was hard to place what exactly made up the enticing mix...sweet lavender and sandalwood, the sharp scent of snow gracing the boughs of trees in winter, coffee in the mornings, earthy rosemary, rain-soaked soils in the spring, apples dusted in cinnamon and sugar….

They were all just feelings, perfumes that caressed Yuuri’s nose and filled his mind with happy memories. Memories that were his and memories that belonged to the Russian man.

Scents were merely feelings and recollections that drew on past experiences. While people don’t necessarily smell like vanilla, they associate the scent with strength or passion, or perhaps something sweet and innocent and childish- birthday cake or an ice cream treat. They associate it with something they wanted to hold onto.

Yuuri could pick apart these scents, these feelings, these memories, and try to puzzle out what people held dear in their hearts. As an empath, Yuuri was in tune with the energy of all living things. Organic scents were a part of that network of life.  

There was the sound of a door opening and closing. Yuuri ignored it, content to bask in the scent and memories of the Russian man cradling him in warm arms. A set of light footsteps stopped in front of them. The kitsune looked up from his blankets, blinking away the fatigue that came from using his energy to channel his empathic abilities.

A petite olive-skinned woman stood before them. Dark hair was swept up into a loose bun, bangs escaping to brush prettily across her forehead. Her white coat was wrinkled, buttoned haphazardly as if she had had no time in the day to get it on properly. Dark brown eyes, almost black in color, locked onto Yuuri’s form hidden in the blankets immediately.

Her lips puckered in shock, eyes widening beneath strands of dark hair.

“You,” she whispered, and Yuuri was shaken roughly out of his thoughts, marvelling that he could understand what the woman was saying to him.

He realized suddenly that she was speaking in accented Japanese.

“You are a  _ kitsune _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that cliffhanger :D
> 
> So I dont usually post on wednesdays because Tuesdays are busy days for me and I normally dont have time to write another chapter. But I think I'll be able to have one done by tonight and it'll be up tomorrow at the usual time I post chapters...maybe. i'm a hard procrastinator :D


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We found out just who exactly this vet is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so grateful for all the comments and messages I've received about my story. You all are the reason that I keep going. I love writing and I love sharing my work with you. Not many people in my life can appreciate just how great a community we fanfic readers and writers are. It makes me happy to have such huge support. Thank you everyone :)

Viktor stared in shock at the doctor in front of him who just uttered the words of a completely foreign language under her breath. Was that Korean or Japanese or something?

The bundle in his arms shifted and the little animal peeked over his arm with a soft noise. Viktor stroked its back gently and felt the bones under his hand roil with tension and finally relax. The poor thing was probably hurt and stressed out over the number of people currently in the room.

“Excuse me? Did you say something?” Viktor murmured and the woman’s eyes shot to him, something like surprise and fear rippling across her features. She stared at the little animal in his arms again before a coolness settled over her face and she turned to Viktor, suddenly nonchalant.

“This is the hurt animal?” She said, and her tone finally aligned with the calm determination a veterinarian would use when asking about an injured pet. Before Viktor could nod, she continued, “I’m going to take him to the back room to get started on a quick examination and X-rays. The nurse here will fill you in on the procedures and hopefully we’ll get everything fixed up soon.”

Dumbfounded, Viktor could only stand in mute stillness as she strode forward and took the bundle of grey blankets and animal right out of his arms. The vet crooned to the little creature as it let out a pained noise and she turned away and disappeared through the swinging doors ahead.

“What the hell was that?” Yuri breathed next to him. Viktor jumped in surprise. He had forgotten the little blond was with him. Apparently the exchange with the vet was as unsettling as Viktor thought. The woman had seemed startled and amazed by the little animal in his arms. She hadn’t even asked him questions about where he found the little thing and what he’d done to help it. Viktor could’ve done something stupid, like give it Tylenol for pain, and she would’ve never known.

“That was weird,” Viktor replied absently, watching the motionless sliding doors the woman and the little animal had gone through. Something like agitation settled over his skin, pricking his body with restless needles. He had an inexplicable itch to follow them and ensure that the little animal was safe in her care.

  
  
  


Yuuri stared in awe at the woman crooning softly to him in Japanese. They were words of comfort, expressions of sorrow over his injuries, sureties of his safety under her care. He searched her emotions, reading the elusive threads of her heart that wove a tapestry of her true intentions.

The woman was being honest. She wanted to see him healed and she respected the power flowing through his veins.

And somehow she’d recognized him for who he was in mere seconds. The notion was slightly terrifying. Absentmindedly, Yuuri wondered if his tails had somehow been revealed through his illusion spell. That would definitely give him away. He had little energy now to keep the illusion, as simple as it was, in place.

“Don’t worry, kitsune,” the woman murmured, watching the fear flickering over his features. “Your secret is still safe.”

Yuuri wanted to shift forms and speak with the veterinarian before him. Certainly it would be easier to hash out this development face to face? Never in his five hundred years of life had he met someone like her, someone who knew exactly what he was with a simple glance. She was also one of the few people who seemed to not want to take advantage of his powers and bend him to her will.

Yuuri let out an inquisitive noise and rested his chin on the blankets.

The woman smiled and shifted him in her arms as she rounded the corner and opened the only door at the end of the hall.

It was dark inside and small. A long table was set into the opposite wall. Mounted above it was a short mechanical arm and screen. Wires escaped the sides of the X-ray device like the spindly arms of the lion’s mane jellyfish that occasionally washed up on the shores of Hasetsu’s beaches. They coiled across the floor to the little desk and computer monitor set against the west wall.

The woman unwrapped his body gently from the blankets, whispering apologetically when he shivered in the cool air. She laid him down on the table, smoothing out his fur as he shuddered uncertainly. “I’m just going to take a few X rays to see the severity of your injuries. I assume you won’t be able to shift forms for a while, else you would’ve done so already?”

Yuuri made a quiet dejected noise. If he had been able to shift forms, he wouldn’t have been injured to begin with. He could’ve escaped long before this happened.

“I’m sorry, kitsune.”

_ My name is Yuuri _ .

“This will only last a few minutes.”

_ What’s a few minutes next to a few hundred years? _

“My name is Alera Kotori Zhukova. I’m 28 and I’ve lived here in St. Petersburg for almost my whole life. My great grandmother was the one to introduce me to the awesome power of the  _ kitsune _ . She was very much interested in spirits, life essences, things of that nature that explain the phenomenon of life. She was very old when she died, but she lived long enough to spin me tales of wily foxes in tune with the spirit world they were born of.”

Alera snapped a pair of gloves on and began to gently squeeze various parts of Yuuri’s body. He winced when she brushed his injured shoulder and a protesting throb shot through the abused arm. She gave a quiet  _ tut  _ and began examining the rest of his broken leg. Alera stroked along the length of the burning limb, pressing into a few tender spots that had Yuuri emitting soft noises of pain.

“I know, I know,” She whispered gently, straightening the limb slightly and moving it back and forth. “I can already tell there’s a fracture in here somewhere, but I can’t determine how bad it is until we get the X-rays back.”

Yuuri groaned when she set the flaming limb back to the table. He had jostled it too much in the past few hours. A stress fracture there was probably only getting worse with time.

“Anyway, I recognized the marks on your forehead when you were brought in. For a moment, I thought you were just a fox being brought into our emergency center and I was about to turn the lot of you away. The bright pattern of fur on your forehead gave you away, though. My great grandmother taught me that the  _ kitsune  _ are touched by the spirit world and the marks on their fur signify that they have been blessed by the great Inari.”

Yuuri tensed a bit at the name of the powerful Shinto  _ kami.  _ He had never been made aware of any greater divine being in all his five hundred years of life. Many stories told of 1000 year old kitsunes that served as guardian spirits of the rice deity. Their fur was whiter than any white known to man, and their powers exceeded that of a hundred regular kitsunes.

But Yuuri had never met another of his kind and never felt the urge to live out his life as a messenger of some invisible being. He lived through the centuries like leaves floating on a river, carried along by its stream and powerful currents.

“My great grandmother was not a devout Shintoist, but she felt at peace when she was studying the natural energy of things around her. She always told me that the essences of things, their  _ kami _ , shone like bright beacons in her mind. They were full of complex webs of memories and feelings and souls that proved how awe-inspiring the universe and life itself was.”

Alera placed a gentle hand on his ribcage as she turned a knob on the machine. There was a soft whirring sound from inside the X-ray machine and it was followed by a high-pitched  _ beep _ that cut through the silence of the room. Yuuri flinched slightly in surprise. He hadn’t realized he’d been fading in and out of consciousness to the warmth of Alera’s voice.

She had quite a soothing presence.

In fact, if Yuuri had enough energy, he could probably read the aura around her as somewhat green- natural, balanced, and peaceful- and perhaps even a bit blue with her gentle sensitivity.

“Alright, little  _ kitsune _ . I have your X-rays here. Give me a moment to look things over. I’m not sure whether or not it would be a good idea to treat you as if you were a pet coming in for emergency care. But if you can’t change forms, there will be no point in getting you to a doctor.”

Alera reached out and ran her fingers through Yuuri’s fur. Her touch was light, barely there, as if she was restraining herself from touching him too much. Yuuri nuzzled her wrist and she flinched in surprise. “Sorry,” Alera apologized sheepishly, eyebrows drawing together in embarrassment. “The way my great grandmother talked about you like some all-powerful being, I don’t know whether or not it’s acceptable to touch you.”

_ I’m nothing special _ , Yuuri thought, leaning up as far as his body would allow it and licked her fingers.  _ Don’t treat me like some kind of god when I’m not. _

Alera smiled and rubbed his ears. Her strokes were sure now, confident. Yuuri purred under her ministrations.

“I’ll be right back,” the vet murmured and opened the door to the room, disappearing around the corner with a flip of her brown hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think? Is Alera trustworthy? Not trustworthy? I've read so many amazing theories in the comments and I'm wondering what you all are thinking :D  
> Stay tuned, because there's some major plot coming in the next few chapters :)


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor speaks with Alera...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so interested to hear your theories about Alera! There will be some pretty big things happening in the later chapters, and you might change your mind about Alera in the future...  
> *grins*

Viktor drummed his fingers nervously on the plastic arm of his chair. He shot uneasy glances at the sliding doors every few moments, but they remained still after that vet had taken off with his poor little rescue. Every time the skater asked the nurse at the front desk what was going on, she asked him to ‘please take a seat and wait, sir’.

It was like being patient for a child to be born.

Impossible.

Except this was probably worse.

He was already attached to the little black ball of fur he’d found behind the dumpster. The two had formed a bond back there behind grime-stained walls and bricks discolored with piss and dirt. The little animal had trusted Viktor with its life. There was no way the skater was letting down the sweet, innocent little thing.

The soft hiss of the sliding doors tore Viktor out of his thoughts. He raised his head, immediately catching sight of the woman who’d stolen his little stray. He was up and out of his seat before he could think better of it.

“What’s going on? How is he?” Viktor demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a cheap move meant to make him look bigger, but he was too tired and stressed out for pleasantries. He needed to know how the little animal was doing.

The vet looked him up and down, black eyes unimpressed. What was she seeing from him? What judgements was she making? What version of Media Viktor was she trying to scope out? The drunk one? The playboy? The dolt?

But still she answered, “I’ll take you back there and explain what’s going on.”

She turned on her heel immediately, not waiting for the skater to catch up. He slammed through the sliding doors after her, feeling very much not put together and not as suave as the Media Viktor she expected to follow after her. Media Viktor would’ve handled this situation with a charming smirk, but the skater was losing his patience with every passing minute. He wasn’t used to being treated as something unremarkable and unworthy of even a second of attention.

The vet at least held the door open for him as they walked into the Radiology room.

Viktor’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the little animal stretched out across the table.

In the dim light of the alleyway and his apartment, Viktor had failed to really catch a meaningful look at the broken animal. It had been hiding in a box at first, and the skater had kept it wrapped in blankets later. Now it was exposed to the cold air of the hospital room.

Beautiful black fur ran down the length of its body, dark as night, almost blue in color with how dark it was beneath the strip lights overhead. Delicate, tiny paws were crossed over each other on the table and Viktor had an inexplicable urge to cuddle them against his chest. Soft hairs trailed up a narrow snout, black in color and fading to gray at the forehead. Beautiful light gray hairs, almost white in color, stretched gracefully across the top of the animal’s head,  meeting at the center like an elegant circlet.

It didn’t look like a dog. It looked even less like a cat. Whatever it was, it shared features with both species. But there was no way that what he found behind the dumpster wasn't a dog or a cat...right? If Viktor was trusting the voice in his head, the animal before him, slim and small and bushy-tailed, was a fox. But foxes weren't black. They were orange and white or just white...right?

He was just about to ask the vet if she'd determined what the little animal was when brown eyes, warm and chocolatey, zeroed in on him from the table.

The little animal let out a quiet noise and strained as if to move toward Viktor. The vet stilled it with a hand.

Something bitter churned in Viktor’s gut at the sight, and with an almost physical jolt, he realized he was  _ jealous  _ of the woman.

The little animal clearly preferred to be next to Viktor, and this woman was holding it back from the one person that meant ‘safety’.

_ She’s here to heal the little stray. You’re taking things too far _ , the more astute part of his brain warned.

Viktor shoved it away and turned expectant eyes on the vet before him.

She directed him to the monitor on the other side of the room where the first X-rays were pulled up.

The first black screen was set with a translucent image of the little animal’s skeleton.

The picture was a little stomach-turning and creepy to look at. Viktor was given a ringside view of the internal structure of the little stray, the barest parts inside its body that weren’t meant to be seen so casually. There was the skull inset with sharp teeth, the spine and all the ribs jutting down toward the belly where the solid bulges below must have been the stomach and intestines. Viktor cringed and scoped the X-ray with quick eyes, wondering where exactly he should be looking.

The vet smiled at his unease and pointed to the front limb of the image. “If you look closely here, you can see that there’s a small fracture in the tibia, this larger bone in the front here, right above the carpal bones.” She traced the long bone and the nearly-translucent horizontal line stretching across it. “This, though, isn’t as alarming as the break in the humerus right above it.”

She moved her finger upward and Viktor drew in a soft breath at the sight of the longer bone clearly split in half. The two sections of the bone were jutting in two different directions, pressing painfully against the surrounding muscle and tissue.

“Normally a break like this can be stabilized with a cast and healed within a few weeks, but the small shard splintered away from the top of the bone here is making things difficult.”

Indeed, the first half of the bone seemed to have been splintered at the edge. The piece that had come off was jagged and sharp looking. This smaller section of calcium dug painfully into the muscle.

“With splintered fractures like this one, there’s usually little else we can do except amputate the entire limb,” the woman looked apologetic at Viktor’s pale face growing increasingly pasty and green in color. “However, I’m hoping that my solution won’t come to that.”

“Please, g-go on,” Viktor stuttered, recoiling at the thought of removing one of the little animal’s legs. The image was too heartbreaking to dwell on.

The woman leaned closer, eyes widening in excitement as she explained, “I suggest going in with surgery to soften the sharp edges of the bone and then set the two larger pieces straight by inserting a little rod along the bone like this.” She ran her finger straight down the length of the bone in a diagonal fashion. “The rod will force the bone to knit back together straight. Hopefully, after a few months of rest and a couple sessions of physical therapy, he’ll be able to walk like normal again.”

Viktor breathed a sigh of relief, studying the X-ray before him and imagining a little rod drilled into the humerus bone in front of him. While it wouldn’t be pretty, it was better than cutting off the stray’s entire leg.

A soft noise from the black ball of fur in question drew Viktor’s eyes away from the image. As if the little animal could understand the conversation between the two Russians, its chocolate eyes filled with something like fear.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Viktor crooned gently, dropping to his knees in front of the table. Beautiful, doey eyes searched the skater’s features, flicking back and forth across his face anxiously. Viktor hummed and stroked its fur, rubbing the soft ears between his fingers, stroking under its chin until the little thing couldn’t help but lean into his palm and purr.

“You’re very gentle with him,” the vet said from across the room. Viktor flinched in surprise.  The animal’s eyes snapped open, looking tired and slightly glassy. They must have been closed in pleasure under Viktor’s hands.

“He was terrified when I rescued him,” the skater murmured, turning away from the woman and focusing once more on the little stray before him. He stroked its forehead gently, tracing the lighter hairs, and moving up and down its snout to rub between its chocolate eyes. The little thing crooned and relaxed once more on the table.

“He was in this soaked cardboard box behind a dumpster, shivering because of the cold. When I tried to get him out, he started to growl at me. I think I got too close, because eventually he snapped and tried to bite me.”

The little animal flinched under his hand and Viktor hushed it sweetly, tugging at the large ears and rubbing the soft cartilage between his fingers.

“He had to have been abused. When I found him….the way he looked at me...it was like he’d given up on trusting again. Better to attack first than trust and be beaten for it. I was going to hurt him just like everyone else in his life. So, I don’t fault him for his fear at all. It just pains me to realize that he was terrified enough to snap at me. He was backed into a corner with no way to escape, probably remembering all the times in his life that he’d failed to get away and was hurt for it,” Viktor’s next breath escaped him in a shudder. His chest seized against the tears filling his eyes.

“Sorry,” the skater laughed miserably, wiping the droplets forming in the corners of his sapphire eyes. “It breaks my heart that animals who love unconditionally from birth are taught to fear. They’re abused for their little glass hearts. They’re punished for their selflessness. I just...can’t imagine ever raising my hand against something so pure and innocent.”

The vet studied him for a moment. Her eyes danced across his face critically, before the black orbs softened.

“Well, it’s a good thing he trusts you, then. You’re a good man, Viktor Nikiforov.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So viktor is still second-guessing himself about the fox thing :D
> 
> I actually based that off this article I read. This woman from China bought a fox from a pet shop because she thought it was a Japanese Spitz dog. Both species have white fur and look extremely alike. That's honestly where half this story idea came from :D viktor mistakes fox for dog lol
> 
> Thank you guys for supporting me! I always feel so happy to read comments and see the progression of this story with every day that passes. I go to bed every night dreaming about so many great ideas to bring to the table. I'm really excited to share them!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri makes a decision...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

The beautiful Russian man’s name was Viktor. Or at least, that’s what Yuuri was guessing.

Alera had begun speaking Russian again when the silver-haired man stumbled after her into the X-ray room, looking wonderfully, tastefully disheveled.

Yuuri peered over the table and caught sight of the sapphire eyes he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. They softened when they spotted Yuuri’s form on the table across the room. Immediately, the Russian man moved to stand by the kitsune’s side, but Alera halted him and led him away to the computer monitor to showcase the X-rays. Yuuri’s heart twinged in his chest and he stared mournfully at the two standing too far away.

The conversation between both Russians had been fading in and out of Yuuri’s ears as he watched them. He was too weakened to understand their Russian fully. Only bits and pieces filtered through his exhausted brain. Words like ‘bone’, ‘break’, ‘rod’, ‘learn to walk’, and ‘tried to bite’. Whatever the prognosis was that Alera was suggesting, the treatment plan didn’t sound very pleasant.

Fear spread its poisonous fingers through his body and he cringed away from the chill that crept up his bones. What were they going to do to him? He was still part human. Just because he was a fox now didn’t mean he wasn’t still a person. What was Alera planning?

The silver haired Russian hushed him gently with soothing caresses, and Yuuri relaxed under the warm hands that sent little shocks of pleasure through his body. It was hard to ignore the animal instincts inside him. He had spent so long in his fox form that it was difficult to think and make rational, human decisions. If Yuuri didn’t get enough energy to transform soon, he would lose himself to the fox and become a permanent pet in the Russian man’s household.

Still, it was hard to think about things when the Russian man’s fingers were buried deep in his fur, seeking out the spots all over his body that made him relax and purr and want to sleep forever, basking in the warmth of the man’s touch.

Yuuri nuzzled his face into the hand smoothing his ears back. The Russian man’s voice was soft, tinged with something like regret and sadness. Yuuri peered up at him, concerned, and startled at the sight of crystal tears filling the beautiful sapphire eyes.

Angry fingers wiped them away before they could fall like soft petals on warm cheeks. Yuuri felt the strange urge to lick them away and snuggle up to the man’s chest so he could bury his face in the hollow of the Russian’s throat. There, he could feel the heartbeat drumming beneath his body, fast at first, and then slowing, relaxing, lazing as it matched Yuuri’s own content one.

He strained to get closer and heard Alera’s gentle voice, “...good man, Viktor Nikiforov.”

Viktor Nikiforov.

_ Viktor Nikiforov. _

_ Viktor… _

It rolled off the tongue even in Yuuri’s mind. The name suited the silver haired Russian so well. Conqueror. Victor. Achiever. The name was strong like Yuuri’s own, promising strength and confidence and unflagging obstinance. It was a name for a stubborn man who worked effortlessly to gain Yuuri’s trust. It was a name for a compassionate man who showed him patience when Yuuri lashed out at him. It was a name for a man that showed kindness to humans and animals alike, who showed emotion freely, and who offered his home and hospitality to a dying little kitsune.

Viktor.

Yuuri nuzzled into the Russian’s wrist, repeating the name in his mind over and over and over again as beautiful pink lips curved into a smile at Alera’s comment, and the wonderful hands returned to the kitsune’s fur.

Viktor’s warm fingers curved under his chin, raising Yuuri’s head to meet soft blue eyes. Russian words caressed his fur and his mind as Yuuri lost himself in the azure gaze. The syllables twirled gracefully in the air, so musical and delightful escaping the pink lips.

Viktor smoothed his fingers up Yuuri’s snout, rubbing the space between his eyes. The kitsune crooned, blinking tired eyes against the warm haze that threatened to tumble him into the sweet abyss of sleep. But the blue orbs before him looked regretful and sad again. Yuuri whined and struggled to move closer, ignoring the deep throbbing in his body as it protested the movements.

The warm fingers left his fur and Yuuri watched heartbroken as Viktor turned around and stepped out of the room.

The kitsune had rarely been away from the Russian’s side since their encounter behind the dumpster. Of course, Alera had taken him away in the waiting room, but Yuuri had been too shocked at the sudden Japanese that escaped her lips to pay attention to the fact that Viktor had been left in the other room.

Now the Russian man was leaving him. Leaving him in this strange room in a strange country filled with strange, sad people. Yuuri hadn’t realized how connected he and Viktor already were. A bond had formed behind the grimy dumpster wall, a bond of trust, a bond of peace, and now, Viktor was going away. Away from him.

A pained cry escaped the kitsune as he struggled to rise from the table and follow Viktor, but Alera stilled him with a firm hand.

“I’m sorry, little kitsune. I promise he’ll be back. For now, we must concentrate on getting you fixed up.”

Her fingers sank into his fur, but this time, Yuuri didn’t feel warmth and peace from the contact. He wanted Viktor’s touch.

But if Alera was right, the Russian man would be back again soon…

Yuuri slumped back to the table with a resigned sigh. Alera’s fingers smoothed his fur for a few moments before she knelt down where Viktor had been not long ago and whispered, “I have a plan to fix up your broken bones, but there’s a risk.”

_ There always is...but I’ll do anything to be healed again. Anything… _

“The only way to save your leg without cutting it off entirely is stabilizing it with a metal rod drilled into your bones,” the Japanese words escaped her quickly, passionately.

Yuuri watched with unease as excitement and fear lit up her black eyes.

“What I’m worried about is how the rod will affect you in your human form. If you shift with the rod in your body, will it break your bones? Will it prevent you from transforming fully? Will it impede your ability to even shift at all ever again?”

Concern dimmed the frantic energy in Alera’s eyes. She stared at some spot above Yuuri’s shoulder, looking so lost and scared.

With a sudden jolt, Yuuri realized how young she was. Probably in her mid or late twenties. Perhaps only recently made a veterinarian. Barely conscious of the way the world worked…

Here she was, centuries younger than him, trying to come up with a plan to heal him. She was brave and confident. Yuuri’s condition was a challenge for her to overcome, possibly one of the hardest things she’d ever done and would ever do in her career. There were so many risks and so many things that could go wrong.

But the kitsune could still see the determination in her eyes. Despite the hardships and the possibility of failure, she was willing to try.

Surprisingly, Yuuri was too.

He could feel the yearning in his body to change out of his kitsune form. It was a constant itch in his body, a constant thrum in the back of his head.  _ Change back _ , it pleaded.  _ You’ve been like this too long _ .

And if everything went right...Yuuri could meet Viktor face to face. On the same playing field. Two humans...mostly human...but close enough to count.

The kitsune wanted to speak to Viktor. He wanted to get to know the Russian, to understand him, to be with him as more than just a furry creature to pet and hold…

Yuuri rested his chin on Alera’s hand.

_ Do whatever you think is right. _

She stroked his ears gently. “From what I know about kitsunes from all the lore and stories, your fox form and your human form are seperate. While your consciousness and your soul remain the same between both forms, your bodies are still different. The anatomy of a human is completely different from that of a fox. The bones may be shared, but they have different shapes and sizes and attach to different ligaments and tissues. It is my opinion that this surgery will only affect your fox form. Because in order to change forms, your body needs to change. The rod I will drill into your fox bones will only attach to fox bones. As a human, you either won’t have the rod at all, or it will have to change along with your bones...I-I think.”

Yuuri listened intently, imagining the foreign object in his body that would help him heal. If Alera was wrong, the rod in his body could potentially snap and shatter all the bones in his arm when he became human again...

But if they didn’t try now, it would be too late to save his arm. In his state right now, Yuuri was dying with every passing moment. Perhaps not dying as fast as he would be if he’d been left in that cardboard box in the alleyway. But his body was growing weaker and weaker. The chance of surviving any surgery dwindled with every minute.

“I have already prepped the surgical center. My staff is on standby for this procedure. We can do this or we can figure out another way.”

_ There’s no time _ , Yuuri thought. He nibbled gently at Alera’s fingers, trying to communicate his decision with his eyes.

_ We need to do this now. _

Fearful eyes stared into Yuuri’s own.

Two terrified souls. Two connected beings.

Another bond. Formed out of the need to survive.

Now, the kitsune just had to trust her with his life.

_ Do it _ , Yuuri thought.  _ I have faith in you _ .  _ Just do it. _

The black eyes steeled with resolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I havent updated this weekend. I've had a rough couple days. Saturday I was supposed to drive down to visit family, but someone rear ended me on the road. I'm not hurt or anything. Just sore in my back and neck from the whiplash and the side of my chest where I struck the steering wheel. The guy who hit me was on his phone...so don't text and drive lol.
> 
> For now i'm just taking things one day at a time while all this insurance crap and fixing my car is over and done with. Thank you guys for all the comments, kudos, and reads over the weekend. You have no idea how grateful I was to read them while all this stress was boiling over. Thank you <3


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry about these past few days of nothingness. Everything with the insurance is coming together, though, so updates will be frequent now!!! Yaaay

“Sir?” It was the nurse from the front desk calling his name. Viktor lifted his head and blinked sleepily against heavy eyelids. It was nearing 1 AM in the animal emergency center. The skater was barely hanging on to consciousness, unused to being awake at such a late hour unless he was clubbing with Chris somewhere in some foreign country. But there was no alcohol involved this time. Just stress for the poor injured little animal in the room behind the sliding doors.

Viktor sighed and trudged over to the information desk. His muscles twinged at the movements, sore from skating practice, and sore from the aches in his joints that spelled horror for athletes growing older and older and older with every passing year.

The nurse peered up at him with a mix of amusement and pity. “I’ve just received word from Dr. Zhukova. She’s about to give your little rescue some anesthesia and start the surgery on his shattered leg. This is one of our more complex procedures, so you can head home to get some sleep. This surgery can last anywhere between 3 and 6 hours and then we’ll tack on another 3 of recovery time to make sure the stray’s body doesn’t reject the medicine and the newly rodded arm.”

Viktor felt queasy just thinking about the long piece of metal they were going to drill through the little animal’s bones. The idea seemed too painful to bear... It was heartbreaking to do something so drastic to the poor thing. But it beat amputation and the stray would be healed with time. That was all that mattered.

“Come on, old man. I’m tired. Let’s go back to your apartment,” Yura’s quiet growl sounded at his shoulder. Viktor jumped, chest twinging in protest against the sudden burst of alertness. The next moment it was gone, leaving the skater’s fatigued body as languid as melted butter. Viktor groaned and stretched, nodding to the younger blond skater and handing him the keys to the car.

“I’ll be out in just a moment,” Viktor promised, watching as Yuri rolled his eyes and headed out the doors. He turned to the nurse. “You’ll call me as soon as it’s ok to come and get him?”

The woman’s eyes softened. “Of course, dear. The poor thing is already so attached to you. Wouldn’t do for it to wake up alone after such a scary procedure. Actually, you know what-” The woman leaned over, rummaging through some drawer in her desk. With a soft noise of victory, she pulled a stapled document out of one of the cabinets and began underlining some bolded sections with bright pink highlighter. “I can give you some information about anesthesia if you’d like. All animals respond differently to the medication, but most often we see pets that are either higher than a kite after their surgery or a step away from having a panic attack in their cages. This just explains how you should approach them, talk to them, comfort them, etcetera etcetera.”

Viktor beamed tiredly and reached out to take the thin packet, flipping through the few pages to glance at the sections she’d underlined. **Hangover-like effects, Feeding, Activity and Movement, Signs that something is wrong, Dysphoria and Separation Anxiety.**

_Damn_.

“We’ll see you later today, sir,” the nurse smiled, turning away to focus on her computer monitor.

Viktor nodded and made his way out of the hospital doors, clenching the packet in his hands when the cold outside attacked his skin with pricks of snow and chill. Slushy ice blanketed the pavement in the parking lot and the skater winced as his shoes slogged through the slate mess. Yura was already in the driver’s seat and the car was blessedly warm from the heater.

“What did the nurse want?” The blond boy muttered, swinging the car out of the parking lot. “Your number?”

Viktor rolled his eyes and chuckled, even as his eyelids began to slip shut from the heat of the car blanketing his bones with golden, blissful warmth. “Gave me a packet about anesthesia,” Viktor slurred, resting his head against the passenger window. “Little animal might be...anxious afterward.”

He was struggling against the siren call of sleep. His heavy eyelids ached to close, to send the skater spiraling down into the darkness where he could finally dream and rest.

The traffic lights blurred in a wonderful mixture of orange and red and green through the windshield, blending together with the haze of the streetlights whipping past the car. They were like colorful little comets streaking down the road with the two skaters, tails alight with fire and blurry, sparking light.

Viktor watched the lines on the road merge into one single streak of white that led them down the amber streets toward home where he could climb into bed with Makkachin, sink under the covers, and let his body mold to the softness surrounding him until he could finally give way to sleep-

“We’re here, old man,” Yura’s voice cut through the fog in Viktor’s mind. The silver-haired skater groaned and rubbed his aching eyes. He stumbled out of the car on weak legs, no more graceful or balanced than a newborn deer taking its first shaking steps into the world.

He had to concentrate on getting up the stairs to his apartment in one piece. Tennis shoes smashed the concrete louder than an elephant clunking across the Savannah. But the only way to get up every stair without falling was taking precise, calculated steps. Except, Viktor was exhausted to the point of collapse, so every step felt like he was lifting his feet out of quicksand. They struck the concrete below like a hammer. _Thump thump thump_.

Makkachin greeted both skaters at the door with a reproachful grumble. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, as if Viktor’s racket up the stairs had woken her from her beauty sleep. Probably true.

Viktor buried his fingers in her curls. The poodle wagged her tail and licked his wrist, apparently forgiving him for all the noise. She sniffed carefully at his jacket and then pressed her nose into the fabric at his stomach, his hip, his chest... seeking out her little friend.

Viktor smiled at her confusion. “Sorry, darling. He’s still at the hospital. He won’t be back here with us until later today.”

Makkachin whined and slunk away, retreating back through the hallway to Viktor’s bedroom where she’d probably chosen to sleep in the bed while the skaters were gone. The silver-haired Russian followed her, barely acknowledging as Yuri flung the door to the guest bedroom open and then slammed it shut.

“Goodnight,” Viktor mumbled under his breath, following after his dog.

He buried himself under the many blankets on his bed, lifting the heavy covers for Makkachin as she snuffed, trying to find a way into the den of softness with Viktor.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, his mind raced against the promise of sleep.

_You haven’t brushed your teeth, yet_ , it needled. _You haven’t changed your clothes. Haven’t watched skating videos. Haven’t thought about_ Stammi Vicino.  _Haven’t done your stretches. Haven’t cleaned the apartment, or washed clothes, or bought groceries, or run the dishwasher, or showered, or-_

Viktor groaned and covered his ears as if the gesture would stop the screaming in his mind. This always happened. Every night. Like clockwork. No matter how tired he was, he would always close his eyes and a list of all the things he still needed to get done would plague and prod and pester. _Lazy_ , his mind reproached viciously. _Slacker_ ... _Imperfect._

Imperfect Viktor Nikiforov- the unwanted, unlovable reject next to Media Viktor, the admired, the respected, the adored.

When would he ever be enough for the world?

When would Just-Viktor be enough?

The skater shuddered and pulled Makkachin closer to him, burying his face in her curls as tears filled his eyes. She snuggled against him with a sleepy sigh, used to the bouts of nightly depression that caused him to cling to the only thing in the world that seemed to love him unconditionally.

With a sigh, Viktor stroked the curls at her stomach, concentrating on the rhythmic movements of his hands, the softness of her fur against his fingers, the quiet snores that escaped her into the still air, and the subsequent rise and fall of her body against his.

Rhythmic….Lulling….

Viktor went limp as sleep crashed down on him with the blessed respite of darkness.

 

  
The grating ring of his phone snapped him awake immediately. The skater groaned at the sharp, pinging bells of his ringtone, clumsily reaching over the nightstand where his cell phone was vibrating madly against the wood.

Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, striking the silver-haired skater right in the face as the rays fell over his bed. His eyes were aching, probably unattractively bloodshot. If they were, then the circles under his eyes were probably darker too. Great.

Viktor clutched his phone, maddeningly ready to send it flying across the room when he recognized the caller ID lit up on the screen. ‘St. Petersburg Animal Emergency Clinic’ flashed over the telephone number.

The skater thumbed his passcode in shakily and swiped the green ‘accept call’ button with trembling fingers.

“Is this Viktor Nikiforov?” The voice on the other line was pleasant, if perhaps a bit too bright and chipper to respond to with the skater’s head and eyes aching from loss of sleep.

“This is he,” the silver-haired Russian sighed, fighting the yawn that threatened to claw its way out of his throat. He vowed never to stay up so late again. This was a one-time thing. His body couldn’t handle months of this regime.

“We’re calling about the stray that you brought to us around midnight last night. The surgery was successful and he made it out with no complications. He’ll probably be waking up sometime soon from the anesthesia, and Dr. Zhukova has given the go-ahead to take him home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys the next chapter is gonna be so great! I've been thinking about it forever and i'm really excited to share it :D


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor gets the news and is ready to get his little fox home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to share these next two chapters!!!!  
> This is the first of the two I'm posting today :D

Viktor was already bolting down the stairs to Yura’s car even as the nurse finished her instructions. A bolt of guilt struck his chest at the thought of Makkachin still upstairs in his room, probably confused as to why her owner didn’t take her out for her morning walk, but the skater wanted to get to the emergency clinic as soon as possible to see his poor little rescue.

He had half a mind to grab the anesthesia packet from the kitchen counter before he haphazardly threw on a coat and his shoes, grabbed the gray fleece blankets from the living room, and snatched Yura’s car keys from the hook next to the door.

The morning air was chilly and biting, but surprisingly, the sun was out and glaring down on the sparkling snow blanketing the city of St. Petersburg. Already, the ice on the sidewalks was melting in the warm rays and water ran down the cracks in the cement to pool in the streets. By evening, the water would probably freeze again in the evening cold fronts that swept in from the northwest. Perhaps Viktor could pick up some hot cocoa to drink tonight when the moon rose pale over the city, cars frozen under sheets of snow; a lazy television show watched from the safe haven of blankets would pair nicely with a night inside.

Perhaps by nighttime, the effects of the anesthesia would start to wear off of the little animal.

Viktor was anxious to see how the poor thing was doing. The thought of the rod that had been drilled into its bones left Viktor paling with fear. Hopefully the recovery would be a smooth and easy process. The little stray had been through enough. Months of physical therapy seemed stressful and painful.

Perhaps the leg would heal nicely and Viktor could look into the process of adoption, maybe start a vaccination record further down the road, and finally get the poor thing situated in his home as a member of the Nikiforov family.

The last part of the plan was already successful. Makkachin adored the little stray almost as much as Viktor did. The way the big brown eyes sparkled with trust looking up at him in the alleyway, the immediate ease with which it curled in his arms like it belonged there, the noises of content and irritation it made, bundled up in soft blankets and hazy-eyed from tiredness...how could Viktor not fall for something so adorable and pure?

“Almost time to come home,” the skater murmured in the stillness of the empty car as the animal clinic sign loomed overhead the parking lot. Viktor swung into one of the spots, paying little mind to the fact that the vehicle was practically diagonal between the white lines.

The nurse at the desk raised her head in surprise and then smiled when she saw Viktor stumble in. “He’s in the back with Dr. Zhukova. Give me just a sec and I’ll page her in.”

The skater nodded and glanced around the forlorn waiting room empty of any other people. He perched on the edge of the chair closest to the nurse’s desk and unfolded the anesthesia packet from inside his coat pocket.

 

**_Your dog or cat has just undergone general anesthesia and surgery. What should you expect afterward?_ **

  _-Animals must be kept in a climate-controlled environment after surgery, preferably indoors, and away from extreme cold and extreme hot temperatures._

_-Anesthesia causes something like a “hangover” effect in most animals. Symptoms include nausea, trouble walking, and grogginess. Some animals can bounce back from the medication as soon as they get home. Others will take days to recover from the anesthesia. This is normal and not necessarily a sign that something is wrong._

_-Narcotics are included in the anesthesia package when surgery takes place. Narcotics can produce symptoms of “dysphoria” in animals which include: anxiety, glassy-eyed appearance, pacing, impaired recognition of familiar people, and whining. Move cautiously around the animal  if it is experiencing one or more of these symptoms as it may startle easily. Animals that suffer these effects can also experience separation anxiety, nervousness, and fluctuations in body temperature._

 

Viktor’s hands tightened on the packet as he read over the words. While the symptoms weren’t necessarily severe, they certainly wouldn’t be comfortable to deal with over the next few hours or days. The skater would do all he could to ensure the little stray was as comfortable as possible...but it was still heartbreaking to know that the little animal would be in pain for the next several weeks as its bones healed and knitted together again.

He could already guess what kind of symptoms his little stray was feeling…

“Viktor Nikiforov?” The nurse from the desk was standing at the door to the emergency rooms. She beckoned the skater over. “Dr. Zhukova is in the recovery wing right now. I’m going to take you on over there and she’ll fill you in on everything you need to know.”

The silver-haired Russian nodded and followed the woman through the sliding doors. He glanced inside a few open rooms on his way, marvelling at the machines and technology inside some of the laboratories, prep rooms, and examination rooms. His little rescue had been in good hands here. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing.

Nurses and doctors walked with purpose, lab coats swishing along tiled floors. There were the quiet noises of whimpering dogs and growling cats, voices of concerned parents asking about their animal children, the gentle hum of machinery, beeps and dings from computers and cell phones and machines.

It should’ve been chaotic inside, but there was a certain structure to the fast-paced environment here. Work flowed as easily and smoothly as water.

The nurse opened the door at the end of the hallway. Windows covered in black paper were set in the door and along the walls. A plaque that read ‘Recovery Room’ was attached to the door frame.

It was dimmer inside, strip lights overhead soft and pale as they shone on the tiled floors. The easy glow gave a cozier feeling to the place than the sterile, artificiality of the other bright rooms in the hospital.

Cages lined the side walls stacked in threes. The bottoms of the steel cages were padded with foam and blue fleece carpets. Some animals were curled up in the corners of the pillowed crates, swaddled like newborns in bright yellow blankets. Most of them were sleepy little cats and their fur stuck up on their heads and backs in crusty little tufts of dried blood and other fluids. A few small dogs were also bundled up inside the wire cages, tongues lolling out of their mouths as they slept peacefully on.

The door ahead opened and a woman walked out, cradling a small bundle in her arms. Dark curls spilled over the green towel as the olive-skinned woman leaned down to croon to the little animal. She rocked it gently back and forth, patting the little thing swaddled in the cloth.

Soft black eyes glanced up from the animal to alight on Viktor standing awkwardly in the center of the room. Dr. Zhukova smiled at him, pink lips curving slightly as she held the bundle up. “He’s alright now. Just a little drowsy from the anesthesia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to respond to your comments. It was a rough week after the accident and everything was just spiraling down and down. But things are so much better now and I'm so ready to get these next chapters rolling :D


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Zhukova gives Viktor some instructions on how to care for his little rescue and Viktor learns something interesting about the poor stray...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is the second chapter posted today. If you haven't read Ch. 13, go ahead and head on over there first :D

Viktor started hesitantly forward as the doctor turned her attention back to her little patient.

A soft whine broke the silence in the room.

Viktor froze.

Dr. Zhukova clucked her tongue and stroked the animal inside the little bundle, humming sweetly as she tugged the towel back and ran her fingers through the little thing’s fur. Another quiet whine sounded.

“It’s alright, Viktor,” Dr. Zhukova said, not taking her eyes off her bundle. The skater hadn’t realized he was wringing his fingers nervously at the distressed noises coming from his rescued stray. “He’s a little upset by all the drugs. I’m sure the lights and noises aren’t helping much are they,  _ bednyaga _ ,” She smiled amusedly, stroking the little nose with the tip of her finger.

“Here, Viktor. Come and hold him. I’m sure he’ll feel better in your arms.”

The skater’s heart clenched at the words and he drew closer, arms shaking as he held them out.

“It’s alright. He won’t break,” Dr. Zhukova smiled at him and turned the bundle in her arms so the little animal could peek over the blankets.

The chocolate brown eyes were huge and glassy-looking, so forlorn as they peered at Viktor over the green towel. There was a sort of detached tiredness in its gaze, a bit loopy and confused. The skater’s heart melted at the sight and he pressed his hands against the warm bundle. Dr. Zhukova helped him support the little stray and he cradled it in his arms like a newborn child.

The little animal shivered in his arms, even though it was swaddled in the warm towel. It looked around the room, frightened at the big looming cages and the lights overhead that must’ve seemed so bright under the influence of drugs. It let out another whine and looked at Viktor, eyes panicked, throat emitting painful cries.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” Viktor whispered and tucked the little animal closer to his chest. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the patch of silvery hairs on the top of the black head, trailing his fingers over the fur exposed from the towel.

Another whine sounded as the poor thing struggled to get nearer. Viktor patted its back, rhythmically swaying back and forth and crooning soft nonsense to the blinking bundle. Still the sweet little whimpers cut the air like a knife.

Viktor looked helplessly at Dr. Zhukova, but she only watched him, smiling.

“Is he ok?” The skater whispered fearfully as the shaking whines continued.

“He’s fine. This is one of the effects of anesthesia. The narcotics we use can give the animals a bit of anxiety. He’s just very confused about where he is right now and the only way he can communicate that is by crying,” Dr. Zhukova murmured, tugging at the triangular ears poking out of the green towel. “Just continue to talk to him and pet him. It won’t be long before the impairment subsides and he recognizes you and realizes he’s safe.”

“Alright,” Viktor whispered, cringing as another soft cry escape the little bundle. The little animal in his arms quaked violently. The skater squeezed the rescued stray closer to his chest, caging the poor thing in with his arms. “You’re safe now,  _ lapochka _ . Nothing will harm you here.”

He stroked the patch of fur between the chocolate brown eyes and the beautiful orbs sealed shut in pleasure. It purred deep in its throat and the sound came out hitched and breathy as the whines continued from its throat. Viktor hushed it, twisting its ears fondly between his fingers.

“You’re going to come home with me today,  _ zvyozdochka _ . Makkachin is waiting to shower you with love and kisses. Even Yura will be there. He’s already attached to you even if he doesn’t want to admit it. We’re going to keep you nice and warm in the apartment, snuggled up with the blankets you love. And when you wake up from a comfy nap, we’ll fill your belly up with warm food,  _ da _ ?” The skater whispered sweetly, heart stirring in happiness as the little animal blinked sleepily up at him. The whines had quieted, the shaking had lessened. The chocolate eyes were drowsy and listless.

“Sleepy little one,” Viktor crooned, nuzzling its soft face with his cheek. He felt the animal go limp in his arms, eyes closing in surrender.

The skater continued to rock it back and forth for a moment before meeting Dr. Zhukova’s eyes. They shined with tears, bright under the glow of the lights in the recovery room. “You’re so gentle with him,” she smiled gratefully. “He adores you.”

Viktor’s heart fluttered at the compliment. “What else should I know before I take him home with me?”

The black eyes darkened slightly and a shadow passed over Dr. Zhukova’s face. She seemed to hesitate slightly before saying, “I’d keep him wrapped up in blankets or towels for the next few days. Most animals as small as he is have trouble keeping their body temperatures at a high enough level. He might shake and shiver out of anxiety or fear, but as long as he’s in a warm and comfortable spot, he should be fine.”

She beckoned him through the door she had come in through. Viktor stepped in after her, marveling at the sight inside. Industrial-size counters wrapped around the perimeter of the room. Stacks of towels were folded on them neatly, placed next to paper towel rolls, boxes of nitrile gloves, and tubs of plastic syringes for feeding. The walls above the counters were plastered with food dispensers filled to the brim with all sizes, shapes, and colors of kibble, treats, dentastix, peanuts, cashews, and oats.

A storage rack at the end of the room boasted shelves loaded with peanut butter jars, cans of tuna and chicken, crates of apples and carrots, sacks of sweet potatoes, and pumpkins.

“This is our kitchen area,” Dr. Zhukova beckoned, smiling at Viktor’s amazement. “Here our nutritionists can prepare specialized diets for some of our animals. One of our staff created a diet plan for our little friend here and I’m just going to give you a quick run-down of some of the foods you might consider.”

She began to pull tupperware and plastic bowls from the storage units below the counters. “Your little rescue is severely malnourished and we want to build his weight back up with nutrient-rich foods. One of the best plans to do this is with a BARF diet or Biologically Appropriate Raw Foods diet. This one will start off with 80% muscle meat and 20% fruits and vegetables with every meal.”

Viktor watched in fascination as she began to place different foods in the tupperware bin.

“I’d recommend fish for the next couple days. It’s rich in calcium, omega-3 fatty acids, and vitamin C to build up calcium for those healing bones. You can use sardines, salmon, trout, or a whole can of tuna packed with water- not oil. Slices of hard-boiled egg can help build up his muscles with protein, and even some cheeses. Later you can add beef, chicken, liver, or turkey. With vegetables, carrots and green beans are good sources of fiber, sweet potato, pumpkin, and de-seeded apple slices are great as well. A bit of unsweetened yogurt mixed in can keep his digestive system free of bacteria.”

She smiled as she held out the tupperware container filled with some vegetables, cans of tuna and chicken, apples, bananas, yogurt, and nuts  for Viktor to see. “The first couple meals are on us so you can figure out the meal plan and what works for you and him. I recommend 2 cups a day in total. You can break that down however you want as long as you follow the 80/20 formula. There’s an information card in here that will take you through the steps. It even has some menu ideas.”

Viktor nodded and hitched the little animal higher up against his chest. It let out a quiet grumble and shifted in the blankets before nodding off again.

Dr. Zhukova started moving again through the kitchen door and then the recovery room door, tupperware container in hand. Viktor struggled to catch up with her, being careful not to jostle the little animal awake.

“He’ll still be a bit sick from the anesthesia. I’m sorry to admit that we gave him a bit too much of the drugs, but we were in a hurry to get him into surgery. You can probably start coaxing him to eat in a few hours or around evening. Even if he eats a few bites, just try to get something in his system,” the doctor murmured as they stepped out into the waiting room.

She bent down to one of the cabinets beneath the nurse’s desk and pulled out a plastic bag with the animal hospital logo printed on the cellophane. Dr. Zhukova placed the tupperware of groceries inside, along with a few boxes of medications set out on the counter. “Thank you for getting the prescriptions ready, Natasha,” she smiled to the nurse manning the information desk. The other woman blushed and smiled back softly, eyes light with adoration.

Viktor grinned over the towel at the sight of both women.

“Anyway, everything here is all set. Pain medications are in here. Natasha will print out some instructions for you on how to administer them and schedule you in for a follow-up appointment with me in a couple weeks. Any other questions?”

Viktor stroked the silver patch of fur on the animal’s head and rubbed the spot behind its ears. “Yes. Were you able to figure out what kind of animal this is?”

Dr. Zhukova’s eyes widened a fraction before her face closed off with nonchalance. “Was it not obvious before? He’s a fox.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is gonna be so shooketh :D
> 
> bednyaga- Poor thing  
> lapochka- sweetheart  
> zvyozdochka- little star


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn some surprising things about Alera...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again with another chapter! Yay! And best of all, the next few have also already be written so we're going back to the daily updates! :D

“A fox?!” Viktor stared at the doctor aghast. His shout must’ve awoken his charge, because the little bundle of fur….the fox....let out a quiet grumble and shifted restlessly against the towel. Viktor hushed it, hesitantly running his fingers through its fur.

“Why, yes,” Dr. Zhukova smiled, pleasantly puzzled. “He resembles the canine species quite closely, but the bushy tail definitely gives him away.”

“I-” Viktor startled and stared in shock and maybe a bit of fear at the little animal cradled against his chest. It looked so harmless there, blinking sleepily and a bit irritatedly up at the skater for waking him up. It was hard to imagine that the ball of fur in his arms was a wild animal. “Is it even legal for me to have him here? At my house? A-as a pet?”

Again, a shadow passed over Dr. Zhukova’s face. She looked hesitant to speak to him, as if she was afraid she’d reveal something that Viktor wouldn’t like. “You must know that Russia isn’t like the states. This country cares little for the sake of exotic animals. There are few laws prohibiting the keep of wild animals, and fewer of them actually regulate who can own a pet so connected to its feral roots. It is not illegal for you to own a fox and I doubt anyone would care if the information was released publically. You might have a difficult time getting it past your apartment contract, but a celebrity like you could bend the rules a bit and get away with it.”

“I don’t even know how to care for a fox. Won’t he tear my house apart or something?” Viktor mumbled, watching the ears on the little fox swivel lethargically. It looked confused, probably wondering why there was so much tension in the room.

Dr. Zhukova laughed, a sound that was light and airy and bemused. Viktor bristled, wondering why he was being mocked. Keeping an animal like this was no funny joke. There was commitment required when getting a pet, and that commitment was heightened by the fact that there was a  _ wild  _ animal currently in his arms and ready to go home with him. This was no domesticated pet bred to love unconditionally. This was an undomesticated animal that could probably turn on him at any moment once it was healed enough to do so.

“He won’t give you much trouble while he’s shaking off the effects of the narcotics,” Dr. Zhukova giggled again, covering her mouth with a hand as if Viktor’s plight was about the most comical thing in the room. “My guess is he was a former pet to someone else. This little fox is actually quite domesticated and pleasant with human contact. It’s likely he was either hand-raised as a young kit or bred from a line of domestic foxes to draw out the genes that would make him more sociable and calm around humans.”

The doctor stepped forward and reached out to run her fingers through the little tufts of fur on the fox’s head. “If it makes things better, I’ll give you a card with my personal contact information if you have questions about care or if you need clearance to keep him in your apartment.”

“You have the authority to do that?” Viktor stared suspiciously.

His apartment wasn’t as strict as most complexes around St. Petersburg. In fact, the managers who oversaw his building were quite friendly with him, always asking if he needed anything, dropping off casseroles and tupperwares of stroganoff, and petting and cooing at Makkachin on her morning walks. But they would be hesitant to let a wild fox, an animal probably capable of inflicting more damage on the property than ten puppies, stay in their nicer suites.

Dr. Zhukova visibly hesitated before responding, “I have...er...connections. I can’t give you the specifics, but I can tell you that this fox will  _ not  _ be separated from you. I promise.”

Promises were fickle things to Viktor.

People promised many things in life and rarely ever saw them through. People promised marriage and then cheated. They promised to stop their harmful addictions and then continued in their unhealthy obsessions. They promised to stay, to be there always...and then one day they’d be gone. They’d pack up and leave or they’d blink out of existence following a single, costly mistake.

Promises were just words. Not binding contracts. They were broken so easily. There was no point in promising.

Dr. Zhukova had saved the little fox’s life. She had attempted a risky procedure on its leg rather than resort to amputation. She had shown it comfort and love once it had woken up from the dredges of drugged sleep and cried out, terrified and confused. She had trusted Viktor with its care after telling him how grossly exotic pets were treated.

Maybe promises meant little, but Dr. Zhukova had still shown him how dedicated she was to seeing the little fox safe and comfortable.

Viktor could trust her. She had given him no reason to doubt her.

“Alright,” Viktor whispered, taking the business card the doctor held out for him. She’d written her cell phone number beneath her business one, as well as an email address. Viktor slipped it into his coat pocket, adjusting the little fox in his arms so he could slide the card in place.

The little animal grumbled, hazy eyes blinking lazily back and forth between Viktor and the doctor. The poor thing looked so tired and stressed out. Soft, confused whimpers travelled up his throat and his head swung heavily back and forth as if seeking out the source of the sudden tension in the room. Viktor hummed and rocked it gently, laying kisses on the crown of its head.

The fox was starting to shiver again. The tremors wracking its little body made the towel blur under the fluorescent lights. Viktor rubbed its cool body over the towel, hoping the friction would give it some warmth.

“I think he’s getting cold. I’ll take him out to the car. I have a little dog bed in the front seat and a few blankets for him there. I’ll call in later to schedule a follow-up appointment,” the skater murmured, hushing the bundle in his arms as the distressed whines grew louder.

He ambled slowly to the door leading outside. The sun had fled behind winter clouds that gathered black and grey in the sky. It was about to snow again. Viktor tucked the green towel tighter around the fox’s body. It blinked curiously up at him, ears swivelling as the skater let out a quiet laugh. “My  little fox burrito,” Viktor smiled, laying a sweet kiss on the tip of its nose.

“Are you ready to go home,  _ lisichka _ ? Makkachin is going to be there to cuddle you and keep you warm. Maybe I can convince little Yura to stay and help watch over you too. When Monday comes, I’ll bring you to the rink with me and you can stay warm and toasty in Yakov’s office while I practice,  _ da _ ?” Viktor crooned, nuzzling his cheek against the fox’s soft head. The little bundle in his arms let out a quiet purr, chocolate brown eyes sealing in pleasure as the skater continued his sweet words and soft caresses. The little fox tucked its face into the hollow of Viktor’s throat and went pleasantly limp in his arms.

 

 

  
Alera Zhukova watched as the silver-haired Russian carried the little kitsune to his car. The skater opened the passenger door and fluffed the bed and blankets inside before tucking the fox shifter into them. He was smiling the entire time, eyes softening as he regarded the precious cargo in his arms.

It was hard to trust the man with the life of something as rare and blessed as a kitsune. The skater had no idea, no possible clue, of the value of the being currently tucked in his arms. It was almost laughable how much Alera had trusted Viktor with the kitsune. Hopefully, she hadn’t made a mistake.

The doctor watched as the skater pulled carefully out of the parking lot and disappeared down the street in a flurry of snow and ice. With a sigh, she tore her gaze from the windows outside, and slipped through the sliding doors to the examination rooms.

She drifted almost dream-like to her office, replaying everything that had happened to her in the past 12 hours. Never in her life had she thought, had she even  _ imagined _ , that her eyes would be blessed with the sight of a real kitsune. And not only had she seen one, she’d talked to it, touched it, healed it. She’d been closer to the supernatural fox-being than her grandmother ever dreamed was possible.

And Alera had let it go.

Entrusted its life to a man that should’ve been an irresponsible, selfish dolt.

He had convinced her of his intentions. He only wanted to see the sweet fox healed and healthy again. But would that change if he found out what the fox actually was?

Heart rising in her throat, Alera closed the door to her office and perched on the edge of her chair. She pulled out the cell phone tucked away in the bottom drawer, used only for emergencies, and searched the deep recesses of her mind for the fuzzy memory, the familiar string of numbers…

With trembling fingers, she thumbed the phone number in and held it up to her ear. Alera bit her lip nervously as the phone rang and rang and rang and-

_ “Hello?” _

Alera leaned forward in her chair excitedly, heart threatening to rip its way out of her body.

“Barkov? It’s me, Alera….I’ve found him.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what are your thoughts? What do you think Alera is going to do?
> 
>  
> 
> lisichka- little fox


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor brings his little fox home...

Viktor drove cautiously on the road, glancing every now and again between the ice-smothered streets and his little passenger tucked into the blankets and dog bed. The fox was curled up in a little ball, face covered by its bushy black tail. It let out a few cute grunts every time the car hit a particularly rough patch of ice and squeezed its body tighter in a ball. Viktor reached out to stroke its fur and it settled against the seat with a quiet sigh.

He was excited to bring the little animal home with him, but it would still be a while until the poor fox felt safe and healthy again. It would be an even more brutal couple nights while the anesthesia and narcotics gradually wore off.

They would take things one day at a time.

Viktor glanced over again, watching the ball of black fur shift with every gentle breath and exhale.

Its fur looked dull in the afternoon light, slightly coarse, definitely unhealthy. The poor thing had probably missed too many meals before Viktor had found it. The coat must’ve been absolutely gorgeous at one point in time. Probably sleek, ebony, shining. A perfect contrast to the silver furs decorating its head like an elven circlet.

It was almost hard to believe that such a beautiful creature had ended up in Viktor’s care. And the idea that the poor thing in the car was actually a fox seemed almost preposterous.

The skater had decided to care for it.

How was he supposed to do that?

It had been hard enough training Makkachin when she was a puppy. Most of that obedience came from pure luck and the poodle’s unreal patience with a master that had no idea how to function in the world off the ice. Viktor had had no idea what he was doing when he was seventeen and just picking up the curly-haired puppy from the shelter.

The year he’d rescued Makkachin was also the year he’d gotten his first silver medal in major competition and the failure had broken every fraction of his spirit. He didn’t want to be alone when Yakov, his parents, and the rest of the world looked at him with sneering disappointment. So he’d gotten a dog, because supposedly dogs were irrevocably selfless and loving.

Luckily, Makkachin had stayed with him. Through all the hard times, all the sleepless nights filled with tears, all the heartache, the bruises, and the blood.

Viktor had almost no experience training animals, not domestic ones, and certainly not half wild ones with broken bones and pretty eyes. Could he even do this? Care for a wild animal?

Viktor sighed and turned into the gates of his apartment complex. He picked a parking spot closest to his apartment and gently scooped the little fox from its nest of blankets. A quiet whine sounded as the skater jostled the poor thing from its rest. Its eyes were hazy again and it looked around wildly as Viktor pulled it from the haven of the warm car.

“Shh, sweetheart,” the skater crooned, tucking the blankets closer to the fox’s chin as the icy Russian winds chilled its fur. The poor thing shivered violently and retreated further into the soft fleece. A quiet grumble sounded in the blanket burrito and Viktor laughed, hugging the fox to his chest.

“Poor  _ lisichka _ . Let’s get you inside where it’s toasty and warm. I’m sure Makka wouldn’t mind snuggling up with you tonight to watch over you,” Viktor murmured, stroking the warm body beneath the blankets as it shuddered against his chest.

He stepped carefully up the stairs, moving slowly so as not to jostle the fox’s newly patched-up limb. It wouldn’t do to go back and have more surgery.

The skater turned the knob and swung the door to his apartment open. A rush of warm air escaped outside as Viktor kicked the door closed and carried his little passenger into the living room.

A loud  _ boof _ sounded and Makkachin barreled out of the skater’s room, claws clicking on the tile as she skidded to a stop in front of the pair. Immediately she set to sniffing at the bundle of blankets in Viktor’s arms, nudging the little fox’s body through the fleece with her nose. Concerned whines escaped her throat and finally she sat in front of Viktor expectantly, tail beating gently on the floor.

The bundle of blankets shifted and a little black nose peeked over the edge of the soft cloth. Chocolate brown eyes blinked sleepily at the poodle below whose tail flew faster as the dog caught sight of her little friend.

“Gentle, Makkachin,” Viktor warned as he settled the fox’s bed in the living room and tucked the animal inside.

It immediately began crying out, brown eyes large and terrified as it fought against the blankets. The sound of its fear shattered Viktor’s heart into little jagged pieces and he and Makkachin rushed back to the fox’s side. The skater buried his hands in the black fur, stroking the shuddering, whimpering animal with gentle fingers.

“I’m not leaving you,  _ bednyy malysh _ . Shhh. Sweet  _ lisichka _ , shhh.” Viktor kissed its soft head, rubbing the ears gently between his fingers. Makkachin nosed her way into the embrace, nuzzling the little fox with her muzzle. Her concern melted Viktor’s heart and he hugged his poodle close to his side.

“What the hell is all the racket about?” A harsh voice sounded from the other end of the living room where the guest bedroom was connected. Yura stood in the open doorway, eyes flinty green, blond hair wild from sleep. “It’s afternoon, you asshole. I need to slee-”

Yura broke his sentence off and suddenly launched himself forward at Viktor. “He’s here? Is he ok? What did the doctor say about his leg?”

Viktor smiled at the younger skater’s concern. While the blond boy was always shouting and griping and threatening violence, his sympathy toward animals was astoundingly genuine and selfless. Yura cared so much even though he rarely showed it.

“The doctor said he’ll be a little anxious until the effects of the narcotics wear off,” Viktor murmured, watching fondly as the chocolate brown eyes shuttered sleepily.

“A little?” Yura scoffed, kneeling down next to the fox and the older skater. “It sounded like it was dying.”

“Just separation anxiety,  _ da, malen’kiy _ ?” Viktor nuzzled the little fox’s fur. “The doctor said he should be feeling normal again either tonight, tomorrow, or in a couple days.”

Yura reached out a hand and gently smoothed the animal’s ears back, scritching the spot behind the black triangles, curving down to stroke beneath the fox’s chin. A sleepy purr rumbled from the animal’s chest and it nuzzled closer into the blankets, going limp in Viktor’s arms.

The skater tucked it back into the dog bed, piled the gray fleece covers around the black ball of fur, and stepped lightly away. Yura followed him into the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about breakfast. He was in the fridge instantly, rummaging through the leftovers, fruits, and vegetables packed away in the drawers.

Viktor cringed as he imagined how old most of the things in his fridge probably were. He rarely had weekends off from the rink like this. There was almost no time any day to do domestic things like cook. Most of the items in his fridge came from grocery delivery and dinners his concerned neighbors sometimes brought over.

There was a quiet  _ thump  _ in the living room and Viktor rushed from the kitchen immediately, mind spiralling as he imagined the little fox stumbling out of its bed and getting hurt again.

He skidded on the carpet in his socks, stumbling ungracefully into the room, and caught sight of both his pets. Makkachin had curled herself around the dog bed, laying her head on the cushion right next to the fox’s. The black ball of fur was curled against her, face tucked into her muzzle, the only part of its body still peeking out of the blankets.

Makkachin lifted her head as Viktor crashed into the living room. She let out a quiet grumble as if disapproving of all the noise the skater had made trying to escape the kitchen.

“So cute,” Viktor murmured, leaning against his couch as he watched Makkachin lay her head back down so the fox could curl against her once more.   __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring on the fluff!!! The next few chapters are gonna rot your teeth :D   
> I live for Makkachin/Fox Yuuri snuggles ヽ(´▽｀)ノ
> 
> lisichka- little fox  
> bednyy malysh- poor baby  
> da, malen'kiy- yes, little one


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woes of naming a new pet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I didn't post this sooner. I was doing math homework and that took about 4 hours. Excuse my lateness (´∩｀。)

“Do you want to stay with us for dinner tonight? Watch a movie or something?” Viktor murmured, peering at Yura over the top of his phone where he was scrolling idly through Instagram. The blond Russian was sprawled out on the other end of the couch, frowning down at his own phone. He was always frowning, though. No surprises there.

“Tch,” Yuri shoved his cell in the pocket of his leopard print jacket and shot a non-committal glare in Viktor’s direction. “Waste my day off with an old man, a dumb dog, and a disabled stray?”

The disabled stray in question was still curled up in the dog bed. Makkachin, ever faithful Makkachin, was still cuddling with the injured thing. She had been there since morning, making sure her tiny ward was comfortable and safe. As the hours passed, the poodle switched between napping with the fox and licking its snout comfortingly when it was shocked out of medication nightmares with heartbreaking mewls. Fortunately, the little stray was sleeping peacefully now. The small black body rose and fell with every breath and exhale, cute little snores puffing from its mouth.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” Yuri grumbled, following the direction of Viktor’s gaze to rest his eyes on the fox. “But only because you’re an idiot and I wouldn’t trust you with a goldfish.”

“That hurts, Yura,” Viktor whined, setting his phone down on the couch cushion next to him. “I take care of Makka just fine.”

“I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me. It’s the look of someone who’s been tortured.”.

“Makka,” Viktor called petulantly. “Tell Yuri that you love me. You love me, don’t you?”

The brown poodle shifted, pulling her head away from where it was nestled against the fox, and shot him a disapproving look. With a grumble, she turned away and nuzzled back into her injured little ward.

Yura snorted and doubled over with laughter as Viktor peeled his gaze away from his poodle with despair. The silver-haired Russian crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at his dog. She ignored his sulky expression, not bothering to turn around and show her master love.

“See if I put anything special in your dinner bowl tonight,” Viktor muttered. The answering grumble from across the room had Yura laughing harder.

The blond’s face was bright red and his green eyes sparkled with more happiness and joy than Viktor had seen in them in a while. He smiled in Yura’s direction, reveling in the notion that the angsty teen felt comfortable enough to let himself go in the apartment. He didn’t smile often. He didn’t get excited often. He just looked tired and angry and sad everyday. This was an unexpected blessing.

But Viktor could understand the unwillingness to smile and be happy. Even if he didn’t know the entire circumstances of Yura’s life, he could relate to the crushing weight of depression when nothing in life was going the way it should’ve. During those times, smiles were almost impossible to muster.

A small whine tore Viktor out of his thoughts and he shot his gaze at the little black fox across the den. It was blinking sleepily against the light, face scrunched up as if scared and in pain. Its head wheeled slowly back and forth as if it was trying to find something…

The silver-haired Russian stood and picked his way carefully over to the distressed stray. Makkachin licked its snout and moved aside as Viktor drew near. The fox whined and struggled against his blankets to look up at him, eyes wide with sleepy pain and despair. Viktor bent down slowly so as not to startle the poor thing, and scooped it up to cradle in his arms. He crooned sweetly in its ear as he carried it into the kitchen, whispering nonsense and Russian endearments.

With one arm, he braced his crying charge against his chest and struggled to open the box of pain medication the doctor had given him. He successfully drew the tin of pain pills out of the cardboard and broke the thin foil over one of the pockets. The pill inside was large and white and probably wouldn’t be fun swallowing without something else to mask the bitter taste.

“Yuri,” he called. “Can you come hold him while I find the peanut butter? I have to give him a pain pill.”

A frustrated groan sounded over the couch, accompanied by stomping footsteps. Yura rounded the corner, glaring.

The fox in his arms whined again, licking desperately at his wrist.

“I know, honey,” Viktor crooned, stroking its ears. “I know it hurts. I’m sorry. I’m getting your medicine right now,  _ dorogoy _ .”

Yura huffed and slid his fingers under the older Russian’s hands, drawing the shivering fox into his own skinny arms. Viktor breathed a sigh of relief and crouched down in his pantry to find the jar of peanut butter. He rarely cooked anything with peanut butter in it, if he ever cooked at all, so the hidden jar should’ve been almost full...if he could only find it.

“Ugh. Hurry up, old man. He’s freaking out and I don’t want to drop him.”

“Patience, Yuri,” he grumbled absentmindedly. “Ah. Here it is.” Viktor shoved aside a couple mason jars filled with pickled beets and cabbage and they rolled away across the wooden shelf with a few quiet  _ clinks _ . The brown container was in the very back of the shelf, shrouded from the light of the kitchen.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Yura mumbled behind him.

“Yuri, what have I told you about language?” Viktor scolded, turning around.

Both the blond Russian and the little fox were watching him expectantly. The latter’s chocolate eyes were wide, a little frightened, full of confusion. Its ears stood erect and expectant.

_ Oh _ .

“Yuri,” Viktor murmured, watching the black fox’s ears twitch inquisitively .

“Yuri?” Another twitch. The poor animal strained against the arms holding him.

_ “Yuri.”  _ An anxious, desperate cry escaped the fox and it thrashed in earnest, ears pinned against its head as it watched him apologetically. It looked terribly confused and so terribly frightened, as if every time Viktor spoke the name aloud, he was demanding the poor thing’s attention.

Perhaps he was.

“He thinks his name is Yuri,” Viktor grinned excitedly, setting the jar of peanut butter down so he could take the fox from the blond teenager. “Sweet  _ lisichka.  _ Is that your name? Yuri?”

The fox glanced up at him, chocolate eyes wide and watery and expectant. His little head was cocked, ears turned intently toward him.

Viktor nuzzled its snout, crooning. “Yuri. Yuri. Yuri.  _ Yu- _ ”

The stray in his arms grumbled with irritation. It stretched its neck to rest its chin on the skater’s nose. Viktor melted, squeezing it tighter against him.

“Would you stop saying my name, old man? It’s really weird. Call your dumb pet something else. ‘Yuri’ is  _ my  _ name,” the younger skater glared at him, crossing his arms.

“Nope,” Viktor beamed, holding the jar of peanut butter out for Yura to take. The blond Russian sighed and reached out to swipe the lid off. The silver-haired skater slathered the pain pill in the peanut butter. “I like the sound of it and it suits him, wouldn’t you agree?”

The blond skater rolled his eyes.

“I’ll just say it differently.  _ Yuuuuri _ ,” Viktor drawled, raising the fox so he could look up into its sparkling eyes. It pawed sweetly at him, albeit still confused about why the skater was still calling its name.

“I hate you,” Yuri muttered and stalked out of the kitchen in a flourish of obnoxiously loud stomping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only the beginning of the fluff. I'm so freaking excited :D
> 
> dorogoy- darling  
> lisichka- little fox


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluff! (´ ∀ ` *)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm living for this :D

Viktor reached over the arm of the couch and pulled the handle of his mug toward him. He raised the cup to his lips and the scent of warm chocolate wafted pleasantly into his nose. He sipped carefully at the steaming liquid, letting the rich flavor melt on his tongue and warm his throat and chest as the hot chocolate flowed down. He curled his hands around the ceramic and the tips of his fingers tingled from the warmth of the mug in his hands.

He reached back and set the cup down again on the little side table next to the couch. As he shifted, the little body melded on top of his was jostled a bit. Warm brown eyes blinked open sleepily and the fox resting against Viktor’s chest let out a grumbling yawn, pink tongue curling out from its mouth cutely. With a sigh, it curled up higher on the skater’s chest, tucking its chin into the hollow of Viktor’s throat.

The silver-haired Russian stroked the fur on its back, careful not to bump the heavy neon-yellow cast jutting around its healing leg. He rubbed the bright gauze absentmindedly as he turned his gaze on Yura just rounding the corner into the living room from the kitchen. A steaming mug of cocoa was perched precariously in one hand as Yuri navigated his way to the couch, eyes locked on something on his phone.

“It says here in this article that the effects of anesthesia on animals should be disappearing. By now, they should be ok to eat a few bites of a meal,” Yura read, eyes darting back and forth over the text on his phone.

Viktor smiled indulgently. “We can certainly try to feed him, but I doubt he’ll eat anything. He’s still a bit lethargic right now. I’m sure food will only upset his stomach.”

Yura glared at him over his phone. “Can you not see the ribs poking out of his skin? He’s starving.”

“And if I feed him too much at a time, he’ll get sick and all the effort will be for nothing.”

The fox’s tail whipped anxiously as chocolate eyes blinked open again. A soft whine escaped its throat, one full of pain and fear. The poor thing. It had been hit with bouts of agony and anxiety off and on all day since being released from the vet. Viktor’s heart dropped into his stomach every time it lost itself to the daze of the drugs.

“I’m sorry, little one. I can’t give you medicine again for another hour. Poor  _ lisichka _ . I guess the pain pills aren’t helping much,  _ da _ ?” Viktor whispered sadly, stroking velvet black ears between his fingers.

Another aching whine, more tail lashing. Chocolate brown eyes darted back and forth between Viktor and the door to the apartment, the metal coat rack, the stack of books on the side table, the mug of cocoa. It seemed to be taking in everything all at once and recoiling away from the amount of foreign objects placed chaotically around the apartment. Perhaps the clutter was stressful; being surrounded by so many unfamiliar objects. Perhaps he was dropping again under the narcotics, unable to recognize the apartment, Viktor, and safety.

The skater sat up, cradling the little fox in his arms like a baby, minding its injured leg.

“What are you going to do about practice on Monday?” Yuri murmured, watching the sweet scene between fox and skater. “Do you think he’ll be okay here on his own?”

Viktor nuzzled the little animal’s cheek with his own. “No, I’m bringing him to the rink with me. I don’t trust any dog sitter with watching him well enough he won’t hurt himself.”

“It’s freezing there. He’ll be miserable.”

Viktor stroked the soft fur on the fox’s stomach, smiling as its paws batted the air at the sensation. “Yakov’s office is heated. I’ll keep him in there in a little crate. He’ll be so warm and snuggly,  _ da, malen’kiy _ ?” He kissed the little black nose once, twice, three times as the fox squirmed and grumbled beneath his smiling lips.

“And Yakov is ok with this?”

“Oh, he doesn’t know yet,” Viktor beamed. “I’ll tell him on Monday.”

  
  
  


“Come now, little one,” Viktor pleaded, holding the morsel of shredded chicken under the fox’s nose, tempting  him to eat. The little animal grumbled and turned its nose up. “You have to eat. Just one bite,  _ dorogoy _ . Please?”

He nudged the fox’s mouth again with the shredded chicken and it let out a soft growl in irritation.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Viktor admonished, tapping its nose. “Just this one piece,  _ lisichka _ , and I won’t bother you anymore. You need something in your stomach. All this medicine and no food will make you sick.”

The sweet fox whined and nipped the chicken gently before lapping it up fully. It chewed for a second and then swallowed, shivering as if in disgust. With a cute grunt, it rested its chin on Viktor’s shoulder, eyes raised expectantly.

Viktor chuckled and kissed the spot between its eyes. “ _ Molodets _ ,” he praised gently. “Perhaps another piece?”

The chocolate eyes narrowed.

“Alright, alright,” the skater conceded, grinning. “But you’re eating something before we get up for practice tomorrow.”

The past couple days had, admittedly, been some of the worst in Viktor’s entire life. The poor fox had been cursed with the effects of the anesthesia for a long while. The separation anxiety was probably the worst of the symptoms. Viktor had been unable to get up to use the restroom, set the little fox down in the dog bed when it was awake, or make food in the kitchen without having to cradle it in one arm. The poor thing wailed whenever he set it down to stretch out his tired muscles and demanded to be held, if not by Viktor, then Yura, who spent the entire weekend crashing at the apartment.

At night, things were even worse. Viktor had to set alarms to wake up every four hours to give the little fox his pain meds and antibiotics. But the poor thing rarely slept that long. It was constantly waking up every half hour or so, whimpering in pain in its little blankets until Viktor pulled it into bed with him.

Last night, Viktor had been nearly moved to tears at the sound of the pained cries echoing in the darkness of his room. He’d cradled the sweet fox in his arms in bed for a while, lounging against the headboard. Makkachin had nosed her way into his lap, concerned for her little friend. And when that didn’t work and the fox’s pained mewls were too much to bear, Viktor conceded reluctantly to the notion that he wouldn’t be getting much sleep and paced his living room, rocking the fox in his arms until it nodded off.

He’d called Dr. Zhukova this morning to make sure it was alright to bring the little animal with him to the rink. She gave him the go-ahead after making him promise her that the fox would be confined to a crate so there’d be no risk of getting injured again.

Viktor had entrusted his poor stray to Yura’s care and headed to the store to get a small animal crate, some more soft blankets, and a box of heat packs to keep the fox warm.

At the pet store, he found a thick gray dog coat with adjustable straps and couldn’t help but buy it, imagining how cute his little fox would be wearing the vest after it healed. He also loaded two small dog bowls decorated in painted paw prints into his basket, along with some chew toys and stuffed animals, a thin black collar lined with silver rhinestones, and a halter and leash.

He’d also spent twenty minutes in front of the dog tag engraving machine, caught between purchasing the gold paw print, circle, dog bone, or shield shaped tag. He went with the simple circle,  knowing it wouldn’t be an expensive hassle later to re-do.

He’d proudly pulled the cold metal tag from the machine drawer.

 

**Юри | Yuuri**

**812 349 7946**

 

The fox had been a bit hesitant when Viktor had pulled out the collar, ducking its head and shuddering as the skater snapped the soft leather around its neck. But it seemed to be used to the feeling.

The tag jingled pleasantly from the collar ring and the fox didn’t seem to mind the tinging sound it made at his neck.

Viktor washed his fingers of chicken juices under the tap in the sink and dried them on a towel. The fox watched him curiously, ears erect, head cocked as he watched Viktor move about the kitchen, pulling a tupperware container from the cupboard to store the rest of the shredded chicken inside. He shoved it next to the takeout boxes in the fridge and shut the door with a sigh.

Hopefully the fox would eat more tomorrow.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into tomorrow” Viktor smiled, scooping the fox up from the counter and cradling it in his arms. Chocolate brown eyes sparkled back at him with interest. “Everyone at the rink is going to absolutely adore you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lisichka- little fox  
> da malen'kiy- yes, little one  
> dorogoy- darling  
> molodets- good boy
> 
> I'm gonna die from the sweetness. And it gets even better. The next chapter has been in my head for ages. Can't wait to post it :D


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nikiforov household gets ready to go to the rink...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so adorable!
> 
> https://youtu.be/0adBn9-Mv4I

The shrill screeching of Viktor’s alarm in the morning yanked him out of the comfortable warmth of his dreams. The skater groaned, eyes wheeling painfully in the darkness of his room. His brain felt fuzzy and slow and for a moment, he considered just reaching over, turning the alarm off, and falling back to sleep. The covers were warm and soft on his body, pulling him down and down and down, temptingly calling him back to the void of slumber...

A soft whine across the room had him startling up and out from beneath the covers.

The fox had spent the night on the floor with Makkachin, sharing her dog bed - so much larger than his own. Both of them fit comfortably on the plush cushion and had been curled around each other when Viktor slid into bed last night. They were so cute that the skater couldn’t help but take a picture on his phone and change his lockscreen wallpaper.

Now the poor fox was crying out in the darkness of the room, probably as sleepy and confused as Viktor felt when the alarm first went off. Makkachin, however, ignored the tone. She was so used to Viktor getting up early in the mornings that the sound didn’t bother her enough to pull her from sleep.

“Good morning, little one,” Viktor slurred and bent over to pull the fox out of the dog bed. It let out a protesting whine and the skater hushed it, rocking the sleepy animal back and forth as he crept out of the bedroom and headed for the living room.

He’d already packed the carrier last night, layering the plastic of the kennel with the fox’s little dog bed and gray blankets. A Ziploc baggie had been placed on top of it, filled with the dosages of medication the little animal would need throughout the day at the rink.

He set the fox down on the couch and it immediately curled up against a pillow with an irritated grunt. Viktor laughed and moved into the kitchen, pulling a lunch bag from the top of the fridge and setting it on the counter. He pulled the tupperware of shredded chicken out of the fridge and spooned some of the soft meat into the fox’s food dish. The rest of the tupperware was packed away in the lunch bag for later.

He added a few banana slices to the bowl, along with a couple pieces of cheese, eating the remainder. He started a pot of coffee and returned to his room in the meantime to shower, get dressed, and pack his skating bag.

The aroma of roasted coffee soon drifted through the apartment, arousing Viktor’s senses with the promise of caffeine and alertness. Already, his fuzzy head was starting to clear and give way to the thoughts of how the day would go. He’d show Yakov some new choreography he’d been thinking about putting in his free skate, work on edge drills and jumps, help teach some of the younger skaters, smooth out any awkward kinks from his programs, and then finally work on his free skate step sequence. Viktor could already tell that the latter hadn’t improved with the weekend off. The skater just didn’t feel inspired enough to move the way he needed to in the final steps of the program. He just didn’t feel _Stammi Vicino_ in the way he should.Yakov was going to have a few choice words about Viktor’s utter lack of interest...

Makkachin’s nails clicked on the wooden floorboards as she trudged out of Viktor’s room and headed for the couch where the fox had fallen asleep. The skater ran his hand down her back as she passed the kitchen, stroking the curls of her fur. With a sigh, she jumped up onto the cushions, settled down next to the fox, and rested her head next to his paws.

Sweet girl.

Viktor filled his thermos with the warm coffee, adding a spoonful of jam and a splash of milk, and then poured the rest in a ceramic mug that warmed his fingers as he moved around the apartment with it balanced precariously in his fingers. Russian winters always had the uncanny ability to chill rooms even with a heater. While the apartment wasn’t freezing, the windows had glazed over with a light sheen of ice and the areas out of reach of the heater were cold to walk through. The coffee warmed his chest and throat as the rich liquid flowed down and through his veins, cleared his head, and chased the morning away.

Viktor filled Makkachin’s food dish. The sound of the kibble spilling into the bowl had her leaving the fox’s side with an excited snort. She trotted curiously into the kitchen, drool sliding out of her mouth as she caught sight of her food dish.

Viktor headed for the fox in the living room- smiling when it grumbled and protested being moved from the coach- and carried it back into the kitchen. He set the sleepy animal on the counter and slid the food dish over. The fox stared unimpressed at the feast of chicken, banana, and cheese in the white bowl, curling its lip a bit as Viktor coaxed the dish toward its nose.

The skater sighed and pulled a chunk of chicken out. The fox cocked its head and stretched its neck out, nudging the piece with his nose and sniffing. He nibbled it delicately, tongue curling over white teeth as he scoped out the foreign food. Apparently deeming it safe to eat, he swallowed the chunk and began sniffing at Viktor’s now-empty fingers.

Spoiled.

Well, at least he was eating.

The skater fed it more pieces of food, alternating between the three items in the bowl. He watched in amusement as the fox tried each one. The cheese was lapped up enthusiastically, along with the chicken, but he didn’t care much for the banana. The fox wrinkled his nose and curled his lips when Viktor held it out, but obeyed eating it, shuddering a bit as he swallowed. The skater made a mental note not to feed it anymore bananas. Perhaps apple slices would be better…

Viktor kissed the fox’s furry head, stroking its ears back. A soft purr rumbled out from its chest and it nuzzled the skater’s cheek sweetly.

“ _Molodets_ ,” Viktor praised, scooping the fox up against his chest. He curled the black animal in the crook of his arm, being careful not to jostle the healing limb and cause it more injury. He stroked the soft fur on the fox’s tummy, chuckling when it squirmed and groused at him affectionately, paws batting the air. Its bushy tail lashed against Viktor’s side and its ears pressed back against its skull delightedly. Soft chocolate eyes watched him and excited whines tumbled out of its mouth.

“You’re so sweet,” Viktor grinned, kissing its nose. “Little Yuuri.”

The fox shivered in his arms and squirmed harder as if enthusiastic about the skater saying the name aloud.

Viktor laughed and carried it into his bedroom where he’d left the fox’s collar on the nightstand. He didn’t want it to bother the animal while it slept, so he had unclipped the leather from its neck before settling his new pet into Makkachin’s dog bed.

Now he lifted it up from the table and held it out for the fox to sniff. It was still a bit hesitant about the strip of leather, nudging the gold tag curiously. Its ears twitched and swivelled as if it didn’t quite know how to feel about the band.

Viktor stroked its ears and slipped the collar over its head, pulling the leather down so the tag sat comfortably beneath the fox’s chin. The skater stroked the gold metal, fingering the indentation of the letters made from the machine press.

“Yuuri,” he murmured, reading the cyrillic lettering.

The fox turned to look at him, head cocked expectantly.

Viktor had been hesitant to use the name at first. Perhaps the fox had just been reacting to the skater speaking with Yura and thought Viktor was talking to it directly. But the name had seemed to stick in the fox’s mind despite any other attempts to call it something different.

Yuuri.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” he whispered, watching the chocolate brown eyes zero in on his face. “Are you ready to go to the rink, little one?”

The little fox- Yuuri- reached up and touched his nose to Viktor’s own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kennel trouble..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one is more of a filler chapter. I'll try to get chapter 21 up soon, but I have a feeling that this week is going to be busy. *dies inside*

Viktor had just finished loading up his skating bag with Yuuri’s food bag, medicine, and heat packs, when harsh rapping at the door broke the silence in the apartment. Yura crashed in seconds later, looking harrowed and sleepy as he glared at Viktor.

“Hurry up, old man,” the blond growled, crossing his arms. “We’re going to be late for practice.”

Viktor set the bag down next to the kennel and smiled. “Am I missing something? Why are you here?”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way in hell you’re walking to the rink in this weather. I’m driving us.”

“Aw, Yuri. So concerned for my health and well-being.”

“I don’t give a shit about your health. I’m worried about the fox. Did you think you were just going to waltz around in the Russian winter morning and not freeze him half to death?” Yura gestured to the couch where both Makka and Yuuri watched him curiously. The fox let out a quiet grunt and snuggled into Makka’s curls. Viktor melted at the sight.

“Well, what are we waiting for? We’re going to be late to the rink!” The skater beamed.

Yura snarled under his breath, green eyes flashing dangerously. “Whatever, old man. What do you need me to carry?”

"Just Yuuri’s bag. I’ll get him in the kennel and carry him down there.”

“I’ll meet you in the car,” Yura huffed and slung the fox’s bag over his shoulder.

Viktor turned to Yuuri and smiled. “Are you ready to go, _lisichka_? We’re going to have so much fun at the rink together.”

The fox lifted his head from Makka’s curls and lashed his bushy tail from side to side excitedly. His ears were pressed back against his skull, but the action didn’t spell fear. In fact, Yuuri looked thrilled that Viktor was speaking to him.

The skater chuckled and reached over, scooping up the fox to cradle in his arms. It snuggled into his neck with a happy sigh.

“I’m not carrying you the whole way, little one,” Viktor murmured, scratching behind the triangular ears and at the base of its neck. “You have to go in your kennel.”

He stepped lightly over to the carrier and reached out to unlatch the metal door on the cage. The fox pulled its head away from Viktor’s neck and glanced over curiously, wondering what the skater was doing.

The silver-haired Russian knelt down in front of the kennel, held the door open, and then tried to place the fox inside. Yuuri only made it part of the way inside before he let out a loud yelp and splayed the three unbroken legs out wide so he wouldn’t fit in.

Viktor pulled the fox out curiously and then tried to guide it back inside. Yuuri let out a quiet growl and squirmed violently.

“Hey, hey, stop that!” Viktor scolded, turning the fox around so he could look directly into the chocolate eyes. “It’s time to go inside the kennel, little one. You have to, so we can head to the rink.”

He held the little metal door open and shoved the fox in, probably a bit too quickly, because Yuuri let out a terrifyingly shrill screech. Viktor startled and dropped him. Makkachin sprang up from the couch with a piercing bark and trotted over, sniffing the black fox blinking slowly on the floor with concern in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, little one,” Viktor whispered, reaching out his hand hesitantly, wondering if the fox would shy away from his touch. Yuuri rested his chin in Viktor’s palm with a quiet sigh, chocolate eyes sad. “You must have had some poor memories from wherever you came from before. But I can promise you, sweetheart, that no harm will come to you under my care. This kennel is to keep you from injuring your leg and it’s a small den to hide in while at the rink. Let me keep you safe, darling. Trust me.”

Viktor stroked the velvety ears back, smiling earnestly as the fearful eyes tracked his face. Perhaps it was strange to speak directly to the animal as if it could understand him, but he had few options, and forcing the fox into the carrier would only frighten it more. If he took small steps, spoke gently, and gave the animal no reason to fear the kennel, the fox would go inside.

Viktor got down on the floor, groaning as his ribs protested being pressed against the cold wood ground of the apartment. Yuuri cocked his head cutely, wondering what the silver-haired Russian was up to. The skater opened the kennel door and reached his hand inside. The fox whined and took a hesitant step forward, concerned.

“See? There’s nothing dangerous in here,” Viktor smiled and pulled out one of the gray blankets. “Just warm, soft things to snuggle up with _, da_?”

The fox chirped and sniffed the perimeter of the kennel’s opening, ears twitching as he took in the scents and judged whether or not they spelled out danger. Apparently deeming it safe, Yuuri poked his head inside, tail lashing back and forth with apprehension.

There was a soft chuff and the fox limped inside, dropping heavily into the dog bed and snuggling up with the blankets. Viktor laughed as Yuuri’s head appeared in view, snout just brushing the edge of the kennel’s opening. “Sweet one,” he murmured and kissed the little black nose. It twitched adorably under his lips.

The skater reached in to wrap the gray blanket around the fox’s body, cloaking the beautiful animal in the soft fleece. A content grunt sounded under layers of blankets. Viktor grinned and shut the kennel door, heaving it up with him as he stood. He slung his skating bag over his other shoulder, kissed Makkachin goodbye, and made his way down the stairs of the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Yuuri has some trauma from his time in the exotic pet trade :(  
> He needs some makka snuggles...or maybe a Yakov :D


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri reflects on his life up to this moment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I havent posted anything over the week. You know that moment in life where literally every important thing is happening at exactly the same time and you dont have a spare moment for anything else :/

Viktor pulled the carrier out of the back seat of Yura’s car, careful not to jostle the fox inside. Little Yuuri was snoozing away in the kennel, quiet snores escaping from the top of the blanket peeled away so he could breathe. The silver-haired Russian smiled and stroked the metal bars of the kennel. Yuuri was just so cute! He couldn’t wait for everyone at the rink to meet him.

“Hurry up, old man! We’re late enough as it is. I swear, if Yakov makes us run suicides today because of your slow ass, I’m gonna-”

The fox, swathed in his soft blankets, let out a quiet sneeze that shook the covers wrapped around him. “Aw,” Viktor smiled, heart melting when confused chocolate eyes appeared over the gray fleece and met his blue ones. “Poor sweetheart. Did the sneeze scare you awake, darling?”

A disgruntled huff sounded from the fox and it buried its face in the blankets, ears pinned to the back of its head.

When Viktor turned to smile at Yura, the blond skater was already watching the exchange, a half smile gracing his features, emerald eyes soft.

 

***

 

Yuuri was going to die.

The Russian man who had rescued him in the alleyway- Viktor- was one of the most beautiful, kind, and selfless people the kitsune had ever met in all his centuries of life. For so long, Yuuri had shied away from humans, distrustful of any interaction with the race of man that had destroyed so many of his kind.

And then he’d met the Katsukis. The family was so patient with him, so kind, so helpful. Hiroko and Toshiya had found him late one winter night, lost in the stretch of wilderness behind their onsen. He was in his fox form and they’d taken him into their home, fed him a warm meal, and left him alone overnight in the dining hall to calm down.

He’d been only a boy then. A scared, young little kitsune shivering in his fox form, unsure if it was safe to transform in front of the seemingly kind strangers who had shown him nothing but compassion. He had spent the whole night awake, terrified that if he changed back, the Katsukis would hurt him or turn him in somewhere so he could be hurt by others. When the family had stumbled into the dining hall the next morning, they happened upon Yuuri standing awkwardly in the center of the room in his human form, rubbing skinny arms, and practically mute with terror.

Centuries of no contact with humankind had taken their toll on him. Without social stimulation duringall that time alone, Yuuri was unable to communicate with anyone. Without experience and practice using his abilities and gifts, Yuuri was weak, more beast than human, and untrained in changing his appearance from a little boy into that of an adult.

He spent twenty four years under their care, raised like one of the Katsukis’ own, and learned to live like a human. That was before he’d been kidnapped from his home with them and taken here to Russia.

Viktor had saved him. He had taken a wild animal into his home, fed him, paid his medical bills, and treated him with patience and kindness.

Even half delirious from his medication post-surgery, Yuuri had felt nothing but overwhelming adoration from the handsome man. He couldn’t help but give himself over to the haze of drugs and settle comfortably into Viktor’s arms, into Viktor’s home, into Viktor’s life.

He felt more at peace cradled against the Russian man’s warm chest than he had ever felt in his whole life. When Viktor stroked his fur, scratched the spot behind his ears, and pulled him into his arms in bed at night, Yuuri felt like he truly belonged. Like everything in his life before had been blurred and meaningless, and only now, here with Viktor, was it making sense. Only now was life presented to him in clarity. Only now did Yuuri feel like a part of himself he never realized he’d been missing was filled again.

He wanted to change so badly. He wanted out of his fox form. He wanted to wrap human arms around Viktor’s neck and nuzzle his cheek against the Russian man’s and go limp against his chest as he listened to the sweet musicality of Viktor’s voice talking about everything and nothing.

He wanted so much. But he had to wait.

His energy was still low. He was still healing from his injuries.

Little things were coming back to him. Slowly. Like a radio being tuned from static to clarity.

He could understand most of the Russian that Viktor and the other Yuri spoke. Only after his medication wore off, though. The pain pills slathered in peanut butter that Viktor gave him made his head feel fuzzy and far away. He usually gave himself over to his fox instincts then, content to nuzzle into Viktor’s chest and fall asleep to sweet endearments whispered in his ear.

But Yuuri could only stand this for so long. He wanted to change forms for Viktor. He wanted to be able to speak back to the Russian man, whisper his own soft words of comfort, fit against Viktor’s body as if he belonged there.

“Are you ready to go into the rink, darling?” The soft voice sounded through the bars. Yuuri pleasantly shivered as the beautiful words washed over him and lit a pleasant glow deep in his heart.

The kitsune rumbled quietly, purring along to the timbre of Viktor’s voice.

Yuuri would do anything for him.

Anything if the Russian man only asked.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a heads up, this is the first chapter being posted today. Another one is coming right after this! :D


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor begs Yakov to let Yuuri stay at the rink..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second of two chapters being posted today!

At 5 in the morning, the rink was devoid of most of the skaters under tutelage at Yakov’s skating club. Viktor, Yuri, Mila, and Georgi were the only ones that showed up this early for practice in the winter time, so it had unofficially became a Seniors-only level practice and the rest of the Freestyle skaters showed up later for the 8:00 a.m. session.

When Viktor walked through the glass double doors, skating bag slung over one shoulder, free arm gripping the handle of Yuuri’s carrier, his eyes immediately shot to the ice where the red-haired Mila and a sad-looking Georgi were running through Axel set-up drills.

“ _Again!_ ” Yakov barked at them from the center of the rink. His thick, burly arms were crossed over his chest, puffy jacket tied around his waist. “Your hips aren’t open, Mila! Georgi, you’re sitting too far back on your heel. Keep that up and you’ll eat your way through this Axel!”

“ _Oi!_ Yakov!” Yuri shouted next to him, green eyes sharp with fury. “You told me you would help me with _my_ Axel. Why are you teaching this hag?!”

Mila swung out of the opening to her Axel as the shout cut through her concentration. She stumbled on her blades as the velocity carried her over her toe picks and crashed to the ice with a painful huff. Yakov sighed and buried his face in his palm. Disappointment and irritation were etched into every line of his body.

Today was going to be one of _those_ practices.

“At least I don’t show up 20 minutes late! Come back crying when you’re holding bronze instead of gold!” Mila snapped, getting up and brushing the white powdered snow from her leggings. She exited the ice, blue eyes flashing with rage, and disappeared into the women’s locker room, slamming her gloves on the rink barrier as she stomped past.

“Must be on her period,” Yuri muttered, throwing his jacket on the benches. He strolled toward the men’s locker room with his bag.

“Vitya,” Yakov’s voice sounded behind him. Viktor turned expectantly as the old coach stepped off the ice and headed toward him. “You know the rules about bringing pets to the rink. I don’t care if Makkachin is well-behaved and trained. Take her back to the apartment.”

“Ah, Yakov! This kennel is much too small for her. You must be getting blind in your old age. Makkachin is resting at home in her dog bed and-”

“ _Enough!_ Get this thing, whatever it is, out of my rink. I’ll have you doing suicides all morning for this.”

Viktor sighed and set his skating bag on the benches. “Please, hear me out, Yakov. I found him in an alleyway Friday night. His leg was-”

“I don’t care if every bone in his body was broken. Leave him at home. I won’t have my rink infested with...with who knows _what_ is on that thing.”

“He’s perfectly fine, Yakov! No fleas or pests! No diseases! He’s injured and I can’t leave him alone at the apartment,” Viktor snapped, swinging the carrier around and setting it gently next to his bag. “Go ahead and look. He’s perfectly behaved.”

"I don’t care about what you have in there. I won’t have it distracting my other skaters.”

“Yakov,” Viktor pleaded. “Please, just… let him stay here at the rink. If I keep him in your office, he’ll be warm and none of the other skaters will know he’s here. He won’t be a distraction!”

Yakov searched his eyes, frowning.

The old coach had been a father figure to him for nearly twenty-two years. Some of Viktor’s earliest memories were of being here at Yakov’s rink, stumbling through the first of his basic lessons as a tottling little five-year-old. The old coach had seen something in him in Viktor’s first months at the rink. Perhaps it was the fire, the determination, to leave class everyday with the burning desire to get better.

Perhaps he saw Viktor’s raw talent. Even during his first times on the ice, he was more comfortable than most of the other children. He picked things up quicker, was unhesitant to get back up after a nasty fall, and seemed to have a gift for flowing on the ice as if it was a part of his veins.

Whatever it was, Yakov had personally taken him on when he finished basic lessons. The old coach never trained anyone under Novice level, so it was a shock to the entire rink that he’d taken a six-year-old boy under his wing and placed him in classes with children twice his age and with twice as much experience.

Yakov had never given up on him. He’d been there through the thick and thin of Viktor’s career. Perhaps the old coach was a bit rough around the edges, but Yakov treated Viktor more like a son than any other skater at the rink. His eyes, his voice, his entire being softened in the presence of the man he had known and taught and looked after since Viktor’s boyhood.

So, it would only take a little needling to get Yakov to give in. Especially since this meant more to Viktor than even his custom gold blades and his 5-time World Champion title.

Yakov sighed. “I’m done arguing with you, Vitya. Just put him in my office. But if I hear one peep from him, if you bring him out and he distracts my skaters, I want him gone. No second chances. No arguing.”

Viktor nodded. “Thank you, Yakov. You have no idea how much this means.”

“Get out of my sight. You know I hate kiss-ups.”

The silver-haired Russian beamed and pulled the carrier off the bench. He headed to Yakov’s office on the top floor of the rink, talking sweetly to the fox inside as he walked.

Yakov’s office looked out over the entire ice with its giant, wide glass windows that could be covered with curtains for privacy. An old oak desk was situated in the center of the office, its wood old and scratched up from all the years it had been sitting here collecting dust that wouldn’t come off with a simple wash. An old computer monitor was set up on the corner, thick and dusty and old.

Viktor had pleaded with him for years to get rid of the old thing and upgrade it to something more modern and efficient. But Yakov was a stubborn, sentimental old man. He would rather spend twice as much time on files than fork over the money for something that would make his life easier.

Viktor set the carrier down gently on the desk, moving aside some papers and throwing old takeout boxes away in the trash can across the room.

The fox let out a soft whine, brown eyes fearful as he took in the strange new room. Viktor crooned sweetly to Yuuri, opening up the metal door so he could reach his hands in and stroke the soft black fur. The fox sighed under his hands and settled against the blankets again, but his gaze was still locked on the silver-haired man with concerned apprehension.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Viktor smiled. “You’re going to stay nice and toasty in this room for a couple hours and catch up on some sleep. Yakov might be coming in and out of here, but don’t worry about him. He’s just a senile old man. All bark and no bite.”

Viktor stroked the velvety ears back, laughing when the brown eyes sealed in pleasure.

“And then I’ll come back for lunch and give you some more chicken. We can walk around a bit outside when it warms up more. I’ll go back to practice, you’ll get even more sleep, and when everyone leaves, I might be able to convince Yura to watch over you while I go over the last of my program. Then we’ll head home and have dinner with Makkachin, settle down and go to sleep, wake up and do it all again in the morning. All boring and monotonous, I assure you.”

Yuuri’s body rumbled with gentle purring. Viktor laid his hand on the fox’s rib cage and watched it rise and fall with the little animal’s breaths. “Sweet _lisichka._ You’re so tired. Get some sleep.”

He knelt down before the desk and rubbed the space between Yuuri’s eyes. Viktor hummed under his breath, watching in amusement as the chocolate eyes blinked sleepily, once, twice, three times, before closing in surrender to sleep.

Viktor stroked its fur a moment longer and then closed the cage door as quietly and carefully as possible. He sighed and got back to his feet again, wincing when his knees popped at the movement. Every year, they got worse. Nearly two decades of consecutive competition had left the bones in his body aching, his joints inflamed, his back worse for wear, and his every nerve screaming in agony at the end of practice.

It was time to consider retiring.

Perhaps Yakov would let him coach.

Speak of the devil, the office door opened and Yakov stomped inside, glaring at the silver-haired Russian. “Get on the ice!” He snapped. “You’re not getting out of those suicides. Better start them now and finish sooner.”

Viktor sighed and rolled his eyes, but nudged past Yakov and headed for the locker room to put his skates on.

Sleepy eyes watched him go through the holes of the plastic kennel.  

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do any of you have some victuuri fic recommendations where Yuuri's identity is a secret? Asking for a friend...
> 
> Also I'm going to respond to all of your comments over the next few hours and probably into tomorrow. I'm so sorry. Nearing midterm week in college and my brain is collapsing lol
> 
> Also next chapter is Yakov's POV and I am loving every minute of it XD


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakov's POV part 1 :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING*  
> So there is some mentions of attempted suicide in this chapter. The paragraph will start off with 3 bolded asterisks (***) so you know where it is if you want to avoid it. I'm updating the tags, but please let me know if I should just delete the whole section! Technically it doesnt add or detract from anything and I do want to keep this story as light as possible!

Yakov typed away on his too slow computer, eyes straining to read the too small letters, and his too small reserve of patience dwindled away with every smack of the keys. He didn’t want to admit that Vitya had been right about the computer. The thing was older than Yakov himself and had definitely seen its better days. It took an hour to warm up and turn on, an hour to finish one file, an hour to right itself again in the unfortunate moments that it decided to freeze mid-sentence.

A soft grunt broke through the noise of clacking keys and sighs. Yakov’s eyes shifted over, alighting on the kennel that Vitya had placed on his desk. He had wanted to take it off the wood and let the animal inside- whatever it was- sleep on the floor where it belonged. But if Viktor walked in and found his precious little stray relegated to the ground, he’d throw a fit.

So Yakov sighed and gave in like he always did when it came to Vitya. Even as a child, the boy was unnecessarily demanding, more bossy than a six-year-old should ever be, and more emotional than any teenager Yakov had ever had the misfortune of teaching.

Every time Yakov thought about those few years when Viktor had wanted to skate to every 90s rock song, had wanted to streak his long silver hair like a zebra, paint his nails black against the orders of the ISU judges, and pierce every bit of cartilage in his ears, he cringed. Yakov had sighed and watched mournfully as Vitya did exactly as he wanted every single time back then. The only times Viktor listened to reason were if they affected his skating.

He was the world’s rising star. Picked by the media at a young age to star in their fantasies. He was forced to give up his privacy, his life, his entire being for the hungry eyes of the world. It broke Yakov’s heart to think about it. To think about his hand in tarnishing a boy’s modest life, throwing him to the sharks, watching him swim in the open water, naked and shivering in the eyes of billions of selfish people.

And yet, Viktor never complained.

He was always staying behind at competitions longer than he should’ve to give all the reporters a chance to interview him, even though they all asked him the same questions. Viktor was always willing to sign autographs and take pictures with fans, even when he only wanted to go out in public to breathe fresh air and walk his dog and be alone.

Viktor was nice to his competitors, even when they isolated and ignored him because of his titles. He helped out during the public skating sessions, scooping up children and adults from the ice when they fell. He taught some of the basic classes when coaches were home sick and there weren’t enough to take care of the classes no one else really wanted to teach. He never asked for compensation. He never felt degraded.

He choreographed programs for Novice skaters, cheered on the Juniors in competition, watched the Ladies performances, donated to charities, did photoshoots and commercials, talked to world leaders and politicians, and dealt with selfish boyfriends who wanted him for money and bragging rights.

He stayed late most nights to help Yakov with closing, he did most of Yakov’s filing, and helped the rink financially when it went through hard times in the earlier 2000s.

He visited Yakov often, and always seemed to do it when the old coach needed him most. He ate dinner at Yakov’s house with him every year on the anniversary of his divorce, distracting him from the pain with talk of meaningless things and programs and funny things Makkachin had done over the past few months.

The boy was too selfless for his own good. His glass heart was big and fragile and one day it would break. When that happened, even Yakov wouldn’t be enough to pick up the pieces.

So he hoped and prayed that it never would. That Viktor would find something or someone to hold onto that would pull him through. Pull him up and out of the dark place he sometimes went when things were especially hard.

******* Yakov hated those times. Fortunately they were few and far in between, but the old coach still woke up sometimes with nightmares of Vitya’s pale and ashen face resting on the kitchen floor. Of his blue eyes dark and glassy. Of his lips parted with the smallest of breaths. Of the tile around him cluttered with empty vodka bottles and orange prescription capsules empty of their pills. ***

The image from long ago had been burned permanently in the back of his eyelids.

He never wanted to see Vitya like that ever again.

A soft grumble sounded from the cage once again, and the noise broke Yakov out of his thoughts. He glared at the kennel, fingers twitching on the keyboard in front of him. He had told Viktor. He had  _ told  _ him that if the animal made a single distracting sound that Yakov would-

A pained whine sounded. One full of agony and fear. The noise burned like fire up Yakov’s spine, raised the hairs on the back of his neck as if they carried a charge and the animal inside the crate was a lightning strike brewing in the sky. Yakov shifted uncomfortably in his chair, cringing when another cry broke the silence.

This one was louder. More desperate.

Yakov scrambled up from his seat, wondering if he should call Viktor off the ice and have him come help the poor thing out. Did it need medication?

Viktor had left the animal’s bag in the office. He had told Yakov that the stray had been hurt and needed medicine. But Yakov couldn’t just rifle through the bag and administer the medication himself.

He stepped as if to leave the office and pull Viktor from the rink, but the desperate scrabble of paws and the scratching of nails against the plastic kennel had him freezing. Viktor had warned him not to let the animal move around. No sudden movements. No walking. No jostling.

“Shit,” Yakov whispered, grasping the sides of the crate so he could peer inside. “Don’t move around in there. Viktor told me that you need to be still.”

The animal inside had black fur and triangular ears as far as Yakov could tell. It was too dark inside the cage to really piece together what kind of dog or cat was in there. Would it bite him if he reached his hands inside to pet it?

The animal groaned in pain and shifted again, banging its body against the side of its crate as if frantic to get out.

Yakov rushed from the office as fast as his old bones would allow, and shouted from the top of the stairs to the nearly-empty ice below. “ _ VITYA _ !”

The silver-haired skater was just landing a quad, and he expertly twisted his body out of it in a wide back three-turn to face Yakov.

“Get your ass up here now. Your little rescue needs help, I think,” Yakov called down.

Vitya rushed off the ice, throwing his skate guards over his blades and practically tripping up the stairs in his excitement to reach the office. Yakov didn’t have the heart to yell at him about having skates, especially wet ones fresh off the ice, on the top floor of the rink and on the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Viktor breathed. The strands of his silver hair were covering his face. He looked frazzled and stressed.

“He won’t stop whining and trying to move around.”

Viktor sighed. “He needs his medication. It slipped my mind to set an alarm. The poor thing hasn’t had a dose of pain pills since early this morning.”

The silver-haired Russian threw the door to Yakov’s office open. He scooped the animal’s bag up from next to the door and started toward the little rescue crying in its kennel. Yakov followed curiously behind.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You must be in so much pain! I promise I won’t forget about this next time,” Viktor crooned to the animal inside as he lifted the latch and swung the metal door open. He withdrew a bundle of gray blankets from inside that roiled and shifted to reveal a set of pained brown eyes.

Viktor turned around to face Yakov. “Can you hold him while I get his pills?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Yakov could only numbly raise his arms before Viktor was shoving the animal at him and turning away to rifle through the bag.

Yakov curled the bundle hesitantly toward him, holding it at arm’s length, and softly. He didn’t want to hurt the poor thing by accident.

Up close he could see the stray more clearly.

It looked like a small black dog with its pointed snout and triangular-shaped ears. But it also didn’t look like any dog Yakov had ever seen. In fact, it vaguely resembled the little animals on the side of the road at night skittering around in the snow, eyes glowing when the headlights of Yakov’s car shone in them…

“Vitya, please tell me what it is exactly that you rescued from the alley a couple nights ago.”

Viktor turned his head curiously, fingers grasping a small ziploc bag with a few white pills inside.

“Oh. Right. He’s a fox, Yakov,” Vitya beamed happily.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if the trigger warning is just not enough and you dont want this in the story, please comment. The last thing I want is to harm someone or being up anything painful. I can always delete it or mention it without any detail.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Yakov part 2 and snuggles galore are headed your way soon!!


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakov bonds with the fox :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A chapter! Finally!

“ _Viktor_ _Alexandrovich Nikiforov_ ,” Yakov roared. The fox in his arms startled with a confused whine and the old coach involuntarily cradled it against his body.

“What? What’s wrong?” Viktor blinked confusedly at him as he reached into the bag for a couple pills.

“Even you can’t be  _ this _ foolishly impulsive. Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what? What are you talking about?” Viktor reached out to take the fox from his arms and Yakov curled his palm around the back of its velvety head to tuck the animal closer to him. The silver-haired skater drew up short, blue eyes shadowing with dawning suspicion. “Oh, please, Yakov. This isn’t some pet I wanted to buy because I’m one of the richest men in Russia and I wanted to flaunt my wealth at the world. Look at him. He’s hurt.”

As if recognizing the weight of the conversation, the little black fox whined in pain, body shuddering in its blankets. Viktor scooped the bundle out of Yakov’s arms and tucked it against his chest as if it was a sweet newborn baby and not a  _ wild animal _ .

“Poor  _ lisichka _ . I have your pills right here,” the silver-haired skater smiled sweetly and held the medicine in the palm of his hand. The fox sniffed the pills, tiny black nose twitching delicately, and then wrinkled its face with a soft growl. “ _ Tch.  _ Naughty little fox,” the skater admonished and tapped its nose.

Viktor pinched the white pills in between his fingers and nudged them insistently against the fox’s mouth. It reluctantly opened its jaws and swallowed the medication with a resigned sigh. The silver-haired skater whispered soft praise as he stroked the black ears and rubbed under its chin.

“Takes a little coaxing. Usually I dip the pills in peanut butter to mask the bitterness. He has quite a good sense of smell. He knows what the pill smells like and what a treat smells like. But I think I left the jar of peanut butter back at the apartment. Unfortunately,” Viktor murmured and nuzzled his cheek against the fox’s head.

“Does the term ‘wild’ mean nothing to you?” Yakov crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, the vet said that he was most likely captive bred since he’s so trusting of humans. So in that case he’s not your typical predator with ancient instincts and experience,” Viktor smiled at the fox in his arms, blue eyes soft.

“The vet? An animal hospital vet? A vet who cares for domesticated pets and not exotic ones?  _ Viktor _ ,” Yakov sighed and rubbed his face with the palm of his hand.

“What’s wrong now?”

“You’re placing your trust in a person who has been trained to deal with cats and dogs.  _ Not  _ half-wild beasts. Did it ever occur to you that this person might have only been amazed that it was  _ Viktor Nikiforov  _ who made an appearance at the hospital? A celebrity visit is good for business, you know.

Did this fox even receive the right care? Or did you plunge in headfirst just as you always do, with no regard for the health of this injured creature?”

He regretted it as soon as he said it.

Yakov watched the light drain out of those blue eyes, watched the happiness leach out from the awful words he didn’t mean and shouldn’t have said.

“Oh, Vitya,” the old coach whispered. “You know I didn’t mea-”

“I may not be the most patient of people,” the silver-haired skater murmured, voice raw and choked as if he was holding the shouting in. He had turned his face away from Yakov and the strands of his silver hair covered the eyes that must have been swimming with pain. “But I’m not stupid and I don’t play around with the health and well-being of others. You of all people should know that.”

Yakov looked away, shame deepening the lines of his face.

“If you must know, the woman who cared for my little Yuuri was very distrustful of my intentions as soon as I walked through the door. I’m almost one hundred percent certain that she would’ve taken custody of him had I not expressed my true intentions. And those  _ are  _ to see him healed, cared for, and loved, because he certainly hasn’t experienced any of that wherever he came from before I rescued him.”

The fox nuzzled its way against Viktor’s neck and tucked its head under the skater’s chin. Silver hair ghosted over ebony fur as the skater pressed his lips against the spot between the chocolate brown eyes. They sealed in pleasure and a sweet purr rumbled from its chest.

“Then I hope you know what you’re doing,” Yakov whispered and stepped forward to rest his hand on the fox’s back. The little body was warm beneath his palm and vibrated from the content purrs. “You know I’ll be there for you. Whatever you need. I’ll be there.”

Viktor smiled. “I know, Yakov. Thank you.”

 

***

 

Another whine sounded from the kennel. Yakov paused, pen hovering over the ISU forms he’d been filling out for each of his skaters participating in the Grand Prix Final. “You’re distracting me,” Yakov said aloud as he set the pen down.

He didn’t know why he was speaking to the fox as if it could understand him. He had never understood why other people gushed to their pets as if they were human children. He and Lilia had never kept pets in the house when they were married. The both of them were always so busy with competitions and schedules that an animal wouldn’t fit happily into the home dynamic. And it was the fact that they never had time for each other (much less an actual pet) that led to the divorce.

Still, the fox was unlike any animal Yakov had ever interacted with. Not that he had much experience with pets. Makkachin was really the only animal that ever showed him affection, and she belonged to Viktor. This fox, though… the way it looked at him… It’s eyes were almost too expressive to belong to a wild animal. When Yakov spoke, it listened, and sometimes the old coach felt that the little animal understood him too.

The fox grumbled in its crate. A moment later, a twitching black nose appeared through the slats of the plastic kennel, sniffing the air. Yakov couldn’t help the slight smile that curled his lips.

He rolled his eyes and reached for the latch on the door. “You’re as bad as your master,” he grumbled, voice mockingly irritated. He scooped the fox and blankets out of the cage and tucked the soft fleece around the shaking body.

The chocolate brown eyes were a bit glazed. Viktor had warned him that the medication might make him a bit loopy and confused.

_ "If he gets stressed out and anxious, just hold him. He’ll calm down after a bit and then you can put him back in the kennel,”  _ Viktor had said to him before he left the office and resumed his practice.

“Fine. You win,” Yakov muttered under his breath. The fox watched him inquisitively as the old coach drew him closer in the circle of his arms.

He felt almost awkward speaking to the fox as if it was human and treating it as if it were a squabbling babe. This was an animal. A wild animal. Was it judging him? Could it judge him? Yakov didn’t hold animals and he didn’t hold babies. So the way he held the fox might be the wrong way. There were too many variables to consider. It was injured. It was high on drugs. It was… watching him curiously.

Yakov swore under his breath and, with a resigned sigh, tugged the fox against his chest. It slotted itself against his body immediately, resting its head on his shoulder with a quiet huff.

Yakov froze and held his breath. Would the act of breathing annoy it? Would it start moving restlessly in his arms?

The fox- Yuuri- purred softly, and the vibrations of the quiet rumbles travelled through Yakov’s coat and filled him with an almost pleasant warmth. It was… nice to hold the creature in his arms. It was like a mini space heater spreading warmth through his body. The weight of the little body against his was somewhat comforting.

Was this why people had pets? To hold?

As awkward as it was...it was still nice to have something in his arms to care for.

Yakov rested his palm on the animal’s back and stroked the fur tentatively, twisting his fingers in the black velvet hairs. The animal let out a soft sigh and tucked its face into the spot where Yakov’s shoulder met his neck. The spot there was padded with a coat and a scarf, but the area was still vulnerable.

The old coach tensed, hand pausing uncertainly.

What if the fox bit him? It would hurt, even through the material of his coat which was thin enough not to overheat him when he was moving on the ice. And it was still a wild animal. Even if Vitya believed with all his heart that the animal was domesticated and tame, it still had many more instincts than a dog bred from thousands of years and many generations of other  _ docile _ dogs.

Yakov rested his hand on the fox’s head, wondering if it was smart to try to move it physically from his neck, but the little animal turned and nuzzled his fingers. The old coach flinched involuntarily, body still wired to move in case the fox decided to attack.

But it just rubbed its cheek against his hand as if it was a cat begging for attention.

“Ok,” Yakov said, flinching as his voice broke the silence in the room. He would tell no one how he blushed when the fox raised its head and fixed its chocolate brown eyes on him curiously.

“Just… ” the coach hesitated, embarrassment coloring his voice with thick gruffness. “As long as you don’t bite, this… this is ok.”

The fox cocked its head and then rested its chin in the palm of his hand.

As strange as the whole interaction was, the movement was… cute. Nearly too cute to handle.

Yakov sighed. Great. He sounded just like Vitya.

“Don’t tell anyone,” the old coach warned. To hell with it. No one was around to hear him talk to the animal as if it was a person. And it felt… good.

The fox blinked and let out a quiet noise before closing its chocolate eyes and going limp against him. Yakov chuckled and cradled the animal close, tucking the body against him with one arm, like he was holding a bag of groceries or a ball.

Yes.

He could get used to this.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these chapters are so slow to come :( i'm dying lol. College sucks


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Yuuri snuggles all around...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg. After many years, a chapter! Salvation!

Viktor rescued little Yuuri from the old coach’s arms not long after the impromptu medicine fiasco. After working through his jumps, perfecting landing position, air position, speed control, and transitions, Viktor took a break from practice and decided that it was time for lunch. The fox blinked sleepily up at him, snuggling against his shoulder as Viktor carried him down the steps from Yakov’s office. Hopefully he would eat after getting his medicine late.

He sat in the bleachers set against the opposite wall of the rink and pulled the fox’s lunch pack from his skating bag. He spooned some of the shredded chicken out and then hand fed Yuuri little bites at a time. The fox was absolutely swaddled in the grey blankets to protect against the cold of the rink, and with every bite of chicken, happy noises spilled from his mouth as he craned to accept each bite and then snuggled back into his blankets to chew.

Viktor kissed the spot between its eyes, smiling sweetly at his cute charge.

When most of the tupperware was empty, the fox turned his nose up at any more food and nuzzled into Viktor’s stomach. The skater tucked the blankets around the slumbering body and then took out his own lunch to eat.

On the other side of the rink, the bleachers were quickly filling up with children in the beginner skating lessons. Little three-year-olds toddled out onto the ice in oversized coats, some of them running pigeon-toed with their tiny skates turned in. Viktor smiled through his scarf at their bright red, pudgy cheeks.

It had been his idea to introduce beginner lessons at Yakov’s rink. For the longest time, the old coach had reserved it as a private rink for competitors under his tutelage only. When the skating club started to lose money, it nearly went bankrupt in its darkest days. There just wasn’t enough revenue to pay the private coaches and still keep amenities like ballet lessons, skate camps, competition fees, and travel. This seemed the easiest way to pull the rink out of its debt. What better way to make money than let children skate at the same rink as  _ Viktor Nikiforov _ ?

The decision was a success. In fact, they had to cap the number of participants every session, and as far as Viktor knew, there was still a waitlist to get into the future classes.

Sometimes he was out there with some of the private coaches teaching the children to march across the ice. It was comforting to revert back to basic lessons after years of level four step sequences, quad flips, and figuring out new ways to surprise a hungry audience. Teaching such young, unassuming children reminded Viktor of much younger days when the hardest things for him to learn were three-turns and one footed spins.

When there was nothing that he had to prove to a country and a world so bent on flashy success.

It was getting harder these days to live up to their expectations.

“Hey. Old man,” the sharp voice cut through the silence next to him and was accompanied by harsh stomping up the metal bleachers. The fox made a quiet, irritated noise, and nosed his way out of the blankets to scope out the source of the racket. Viktor watched in amusement as the velvet ears perked up at the sight of Yuri making his way up the steps. The blond skater reached out and plucked the fox right out of Viktor’s arms.

“Hey,” the silver-haired skater protested, reaching for the little animal.

“Yakov needs you in the rink. Two of the private coaches called in sick, so you’re teaching the eight-year-olds.”

“Mila and Georgi can’t do it?” Viktor made another wild grab for his poor little stray who looked much too content in Yuri’s arms.

“Georgi is crying in one of the bathroom stalls because he found one of Anya’s scarves in his dresser and he told me, ‘It still smells like her.’ The creep. Mila’s been grouchy all day, because she’s on her period. She threw one of her guards at me when I told her to get over it.”

“And I’ll throw another one at you if you don’t shut up and stop telling people about my personal life,” Mila rounded the corner, blue eyes dark and hard with barely concealed rage. In her hand was a pink skate guard, probably the last of her ammo. Yuri balked at the sight of her, but his green eyes were alight with mirth.

“Go ahead,  _ baba _ . You couldn’t hit a limping turtle if you tried,” the blond skater smirked. Viktor watched in horror as Mila’s eyes darkened and her lips twisted in anger.

Her arm whipped back, skate guard at the ready to be launched at Yuri’s head, when her blue eyes widened in shock and the weapon clattered from her hand to the rink floor.

“What is that?” She pointed at the bundle of blankets in Yuri’s arms. The fox’s head was the only thing visible from the mountain of fleece. Chocolate brown eyes had been watching the exchange between the two teenagers uneasily, and the velvet ears were pinned back against Yuuri’s head. “It’s so  _ cute _ ,” Mila cried and moved closer, anger apparently forgotten.

Yuuri flinched when she reached out her hand to pet him, probably expecting her to lash out at him as she did with Yuri, but she clucked her tongue and stroked his head confidently. The little fox went limp under her fingers.

“He’s a fox,” Viktor murmured, smiling at the content brown eyes sealing in pleasure.

“A fox,” Mila whispered in shock, eyes wide. “Can I hold him?”

“He has a broken leg, so be careful,” Yuri cut in warningly. The silver-haired skater smiled at the concern he held for the injured animal.

Mila reached out excitedly, hands curling under Yuuri’s body. She drew him against her chest, murmuring quiet endearments Viktor couldn’t hear. But he trusted his little charge in her care. She twisted her fingers through the black fur, blue eyes warmer than they had been all day. The fox blinked up at her as she cradled him like a newborn. Viktor would’ve melted into a puddle at the sight of the chocolate eyes staring up at him wide and trusting.

Mila made a quiet noise, eyes crinkling in adoration. She tucked the blankets around the little animal and then rocked it back and forth, body swaying to the rhythm of whatever lullaby she was humming under her breath.

“I had him first,” Yuri mumbled next to him, arms crossed against his chest as he watched the red-haired skater petulantly.

Viktor grinned and ruffled his hair, smirk widening when the blond skater batted his hands away like an angry cat. “Now you know how I feel. Guess you’ll be helping me with the children today, Yuri.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm way less busy this week and I just really want to get to writing again, so the next one wont be as long away this time.
> 
> The next chapter is going to get the ball rolling on plot again. I feel like this little rink arc is just about done. Poor Yuuri needs to start healing lol. Lots of crazy things coming your way. Dealing with characters we havent met yet and those a bit more mysterious than we'd like them to be....dun dun dun.
> 
> I'm really excited for the upcoming chapters. My fingers are itching to write!
> 
> Thanks for following along so far <3


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time passes in the Nikiforov household...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins :D

November was gradually coming to a close. With each day that passed, the weather seemed to get colder, until stumbling out onto the streets at any hour of the day was sure to seemingly freeze the air inside the lungs. Viktor’s apartment was sheltered from the worst of the chill. The heaters worked overtime to circulate warmth throughout the apartments in his complex, but the windows in the sitting room still froze over, the tile was nearly too cold to walk on, and sleeping at night required three thick and fluffy blankets.

But the cold didn’t bother Viktor much. He had so many other things to worry about. The NHK Trophy event in Sapporo, Japan was coming up in a week, the last of the Grand Prix Final’s qualifying events. He still had to polish his step sequences for the Freeskate. They should have been almost perfect at this point in the season. But, for once, Viktor felt off his game.

There was something about Stammi Vicino that still wasn’t coming across in his steps. Sure he skated like he was mournful and lonely, the way it  _ should  _ be skated, but there wasn’t enough emotion coming out of every minute turn of his blades. That didn’t stop the judges from scoring him high: performance didn’t count as much as the technicalities in the long run. And Viktor held the record for the highest TES.

And he was worried about his little stray. He had found Yuuri nearly a month ago, injured and terrified behind a dumpster in a deserted alleyway. It had taken the fox a while after the surgery to start noticeably healing. Viktor worried that his leg would never heal, but gradually, Yuuri got stronger.

Dr. Zhukova was worried that the rod wouldn’t be enough to keep the bone healing straight.  _ “The humerus is one of those bones that requires constant upkeep when broken. Bones can heal in three to four weeks, but healing doesn’t matter in the long run if the regeneration process is left to its own devices. I’ve seen deer bones that have healed incorrectly after car accidents. They’re so mangled, they don’t resemble bones at all, just jagged pieces jutting out in all directions. More painful than getting hit by a car in the first place.” _

The first of the examination appointments was tomorrow. Hopefully Dr. Zhukova would find a healing leg. Viktor didn’t want to know what would happen if the limb hadn’t healed correctly.

Yuuri had gained more movement as the days went by. About two weeks after getting cleared from the vet, he was hobbling around in the kitchen during dinner or limping after Makkachin to follow her into her dog bed at night. After three weeks, he was playing tug-o-war with the old poodle, a feat that nearly gave Viktor a heart attack.

He had heard a series of soft growls from the bathroom where he’d been doing his hair one morning before practice. When he stumbled into the living room, Makkachin was hunched down, butt wiggling in the air as she jerked her head back and forth, teeth closed over a stuffed duck toy. Yuuri was hanging off the end of it, putting up a marvelous fight all things considered. But Viktor had snapped when he saw the fox’s body get dragged around on the carpeted floor.

Makkachin was gentle about it, but Viktor had still scolded both of them until they had retreated to their beds, ears pinned back, tails wagging guiltily. They had both gotten treats that night. Viktor felt bad for yelling at them.

Yuuri’s presence at the rink had definitely lightened practice considerably. Yakov had him most of the day. The little fox now had his own bed in the old coach’s office, but he usually never actually slept there. He was in Yakov’s arms most of the time, snuggled up while the coach worked on his computer or sat in the hockey box to yell at the Novice skaters during their ice time.

Viktor got him back for lunch and he usually camped out in the bleachers during the beginner lessons. A couple times, he’d let the younger children stroke the fox’s fur and talk to him while the resurfacer was on the ice, but that was usually too stressful for both him and Yuuri.

During his ballet lessons once a week, the fox stayed with Mila and Yura. The trio were usually curled up in one of the studio rooms, camped out in Yakov’s office, or in the bleachers. He’d found them one day in the cafeteria where all the hockey players were taking a break for lunch. Yuuri had been passed around between the players, chocolate eyes bright with curiosity while Yuri scowled at them in the corner.

And then later in the night when Viktor had private ice long after everyone was gone, Yakov skated around the rink with Yuuri in his arms while the silver-haired skater worked through his programs. The fox would peer over the old coach’s shoulder, chocolate eyes curious as they tracked Viktor’s form twizzling and jumping across the ice. He had flinched in surprise the first few times when Yakov had raised his voice to yell at Viktor, but gradually, Yuuri got used to the old coach’s loud way of communicating and just snuggled into the coach’s chest. It was adorable to watch.

There was a soft noise in the living room. Viktor set down his mug of hot chocolate on the kitchen counter and peeked around the corner. Yura, Makkachin, and Yuuri were all bundled up on the couch together. The blond skater was stretched out lengthwise, head using Makkachin’s warm belly as a pillow. Her head was resting on his chest. Snuggled up to her was little Yuuri, face tucked inside a bushy black tail.

Viktor smiled at the cozy scene and rested his hip against the wall.

“Stop staring, old man. It’s creepy,” Yuri muttered from the couch. His green eyes were glued to his phone and whatever game had his fingers tapping rapidly across the screen.

At the sound of the teen’s voice, Yuuri’s chocolate eyes blinked open. A velvety, triangular ear twitched back and forth before the fox’s heavy head rose. Yura buried his fingers in the black fur and the fox let out a throaty purr before snuggling back down into Makka’s curls.

“You’re so good with him, Yura,” Viktor smiled pleasantly and crossed his arms.

“Someone has to look out for the helpless when an idiot like you is around.”

“Ah, Yuri. You  _ do  _ have a caring heart!”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Viktor retrieved his mug from the kitchen and slumped down on the edge of the couch, minding Yuri’s socked feet. “Do you think you could watch him while I’m in Japan?”

The blond skater set his phone down with an irritated scowl. “Of course. Who else is going to do it? I’ll take care of your mangy mutt, too.”

Viktor smiled. “Thank you, Yura.”

“Tch. Yeah, whatever.”

The silver-haired Russian reached over and ran his fingers down the fox’s back. A slight shiver travelled down the black-furred body. Yuuri grumbled and stretched out, paws curling. He yawned, flicked his tail, and then shot Viktor an unimpressed look.

The skater chuckled and scooped him up from Yura’s chest and into his arms.

The fox grumbled and writhed, protesting noises escaping his mouth.

Viktor smiled into its fur and sank his fingers into the spot between its shoulder blades that always made the fox go limp.

And limp he did go.

A pleasant purr rumbled through the fox’s chest as he melted against Viktor. The silver-haired skater kissed the top of his head. He trailed his fingers through the soft fur, down its tail, and then back up to rub the gauze on the bright green cast. The edges of the medical strips were frayed.

“We’re going to see the doctor tomorrow, sweet  _ lisichka _ . Hopefully she’ll give you the all-clear and this annoying cast will get to come off _ , da _ ?”

The fox nibbled lazily at his wrist and fingers. Viktor curled his hand over the fox’s head, tickling the soft fur beneath its chin. Yuuri chittered pleasantly, brown eyes sealing in pleasure.

“You’ll be good for Yura while I’m gone, yes?”

The chocolate eyes snapped open. A soft rumble travelled up the fox’s chest and out into the quiet air of the apartment.

“Hush, darling,” Viktor admonished and tapped the fox’s nose. Yuuri seemed to scowl at him, eyes unimpressed. “I’ll be gone less than a week. You won’t even notice I’m missing.”

It was as if the fox could understand him.

The black, bushy tail lashed back and forth.

Viktor chuckled and squeezed the fox’s snout between two fingers. He pressed his lips to the soft muzzle once, twice, three times, until Yuuri shook him off with a soft grumble. Triangular ears flattened against his skull. The fox snuggled up against Viktor’s cheek and the silver-haired skater melted with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is healing! Yay! And you know what that means :D he's closer to being able to transform into a human again

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a long fic comprised of a collection of short chapters and one shots all set in the same story. This will ensure that I can post multiple times a week. Either everyday or every other day.
> 
> Also posted on my tumblr account: onthewingsofpoesy
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/onthewingsofpoesy


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